


Batman Plays a Lone Hand

by Northoftheroad



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northoftheroad/pseuds/Northoftheroad
Summary: Dick Grayson is shocked to learn that his foster father intends to send him away to a boarding school, far away from Gotham, his new family and any chance to go out as Robin. Just how long will Dick  stay put?(This is based on a Golden Age Batman story.)Disclaimer. Don't own, just playing.
Comments: 49
Kudos: 65





	1. Prologue

Prologue

Coming home from school on Fridays was perhaps Dick Grayson’s favourite time of the week. Because Friday meant that he had two nights of patrolling as Robin in front of him.   
The adrenalin rush of flying over rooftops. The warm feeling when they succeeded in helping people. And, last but not least, working together with Bruce. 

Some kids looked forward to going to a baseball game, the movies, or the amusement park with their parents. And it wasn’t as if Dick didn’t enjoy doing things like that with his foster father, the few times it happened, but there was nothing quite like going out as Batman and Robin. 

Quite often, Bruce himself would pick him up after school on Fridays. But when Dick heard the heavy oak doors close behind him as he walked down the steps from the school building, there were no sign of any of the cars that Bruce would habitually drive. Neither of Alfred and the limousine.

Dick’s brow furrowed for a moment – that was unusual. When he reached the pavement, he took up his phone to check for missed messages but found none. He shrugged and looked around for a place to wait, out of the way from where his fellow students were picked up, but just then the black limousine turned into sight. 

Moments later, the car came to a stop, and Dick hurried to open the back door and jump in. He was still training Alfred not to step out and hold the door open for him as if he were some kind of dumb celebrity who needed props to make a noticeable entrance or exit. 

“Hi Alfred”. 

“Young sir”.

Dick frowned again – Alfred didn’t sound quite himself. Too subdued.

The boy leaned forward, hanging his arms over the front seat, and asked, “Anything the matter?” 

“Of course not.”

“All right – if you say so,” Dick said, sitting back again. “I can hardly believe it's finally Friday. My favourite day! And I know we’ve got a case going.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“I’ve got a feeling this is going to be the best night I’ve had for ages!”

And if Alfred didn’t respond to that – well, it was only to be expected that the correct butler wouldn’t. The older man didn’t seem eager to chat this day, and Dick was content to look out through the windows and daydream about the weekend until they arrived at the Manor. 

Alfred cleared his throat when he stopped the car and looked at Dick in the rear mirror.

“I believe Master Bruce wants to speak with you, Master Richard. He wanted you to go straight up to his study. He will be expecting you.”

Dick sat up a bit straighter for a moment before he flashed his driver a smile and opened the door.

“Thanks for the ride, Alfred! I’ll run straight up and see what the boss-man wants.”

And if Alfred looked after his young charge with a sad look in his eyes, well, Dick was too busy to run up the stairs to the Manor to notice. 


	2. Chapter 1 (Dick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has come to a decision – Dick hates it.

“Bruce? Alfred said you wanted to talk with me?”

The door to the study was open, and Dick started talking even before he reached the door. As he crossed the threshold, he saw his mentor sitting behind his massive desk, staring out over the room. 

“Hm – that’s right. Come in and sit down, please, Dick.”

A chair had been placed in front of the desk, obviously for Dick. The boy cocked his head curiously; it was an unusual welcoming, but he trotted to the designated chair and sat down.

“So, what’s up?”

Bruce shifted in his chair; he leaned forward and steepled his fingers before his face. 

“Dick. I...” 

He hesitated, and Dick felt compelled to give an encouraging grin and say, “I’m still here.”

Bruce took a deep breath and tried again.

“Dick, I’m sorry that you’re not going to like this. But I have decided to enrol you in a boarding school; some hours drive away from Gotham. It’s time you concentrated on your schoolwork.”

Dick was standing before he even knew he had moved.

“You have what?!”

Bruce met his eyes, straight on. 

“You heard me. You’re starting at Hillside Academy on Monday. Alfred will drive you there on Sunday. I’m sorry you will not get the chance to say farewell to your friends, but I deemed it preferable that you start to acclimatize as soon as possible.”

Dick stood rooted to the floor and with his hands firmly placed on the polished desk. It took him several seconds to remember to breathe and to find his voice again. 

“Bruce! How could you?”

“As I said, you need to concentrate on your schoolwork. Obviously, that is not going to happen as long as you’re spending a lot of time as Robin. Now, I’m not saying that you will never be Robin again – we can discuss your coming out with me on some weekends and holidays in the future – but for now, school will be your priority. I will make sure you can continue to study what you should know if you want to stick with Robin, besides the regular curriculum.”

“But what have I done? My grades are fine, I’ve aced every test I can remember – what did I do wrong?”

“I know you’re performing well, Dick. But Robin takes a lot of time, and your classes will soon become a lot more demanding. School comes first – I made that clear from the start.” 

“Bruce, please, I can work harder at school, I can take extra classes, whatever you want…”

Bruce sighed and sat straight in his chair. 

“Dick, I know you. However good your intentions, you can’t help but put a lot into training as Robin. And look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not going to put on your suit if you think someone needs your help.”

“...” 

“That’s why I decided you should leave Gotham for the time being. For somewhere where you will not be tempted. But as I said, this needn’t be the end of Robin.”

“But...”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Dick. The school permits the students to come home for one extra long weekend every month, and we’ll take advantage of that in the future, I promise. Now, please go to your room. You will have errands to run tomorrow, and Alfred will drive you to Hillside early on Sunday, so you should start packing. You will get new school books, but you can bring a few of your criminology books. Not all of them at the same time, you mustn’t be conspicuous, but a few at a time.”

Dick didn’t move; his mind was too much of a whirlwind of emotions for him to be able to decide on any kind of action. He stood there, staring at his guardian with big eyes. 

Eventually, Bruce’s brow furrowed, and he said, “...Dick? Are you listening to me?”

His words seemed to wake Dick from his frozen state. The boy’s eyes started to glisten with tears; he blinked rapidly, trying to prevent them from falling. 

“You’re throwing me out...” he said, in a small voice. “You promised me I would have a home.”

“Son... That’s not what I’m saying. This is your home, for as long as you want – all your life, I hope.”

“How can you say that... and decide to send me away, without even talking to me?”

“I’m just thinking about what’s best for you. It’s my responsibility as an adult to take care of you, even if that means deciding that it’s better for you to be somewhere else for a while.”

“That’s bull, Bruce!” the boy exclaimed, leaning even further forward over the desk. “Making a decision like that over my head can never be what’s best for me! This is about you – don’t try to hide behind excuses.”

Bruce sighed again and reclined in his chair. 

“I understand that you’re upset, son. I will not hold this outbreak against you. You are a child, and you do not see the whole picture properly at the moment.”

“I’m less of a child than when I became Robin! And I’ve saved your life more than once. And suddenly, out of the blue, I’m too young to even have a say about where I’m going to school?!”

“Really, Dick. This is getting tedious. You promised to obey me...”

“I promised Batman! For Robin things. But this... this is… my life, Bruce. Me – my life. My... I thought I had a home and a new family, but I guess I was mistaken.”

Dick blinked again, trying but failing to stop tears from rolling over his cheeks. He shook his head impatiently, stood up straight and backed away from Bruce’s desk. 

“Robin needs to be on the back burner for a period; that is the whole point. You know as well as I do that if you stay here, that will not happen. Now, there really is no more to discuss. Alfred has put three large suitcases in your room; that’s all you’re permitted to bring so think carefully about what to pack. Hillside Academy is to the South of Gotham and Spring will already be in the air. You’ll enjoy the surroundings; I made sure it is a good school and a good location. There is a school uniform – Alfred will take you shopping for that tomorrow – so you don’t need to think about that kind of clothes.”

Dick stood rooted in front of the desk, breathing heavily, for another few seconds. Then he turned abruptly and fled from the room.

Bruce leaned backwards heavily in his chair. His eyes fell on a few drops of liquid that glistened on the other side of his desk, and he let his head fall backwards, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I’m doing it for your own good, chum. You’ll understand, one day,” he whispered to the empty room. 

— — —

It had been a long time since Dick had cried himself to sleep. As Robin, he had had plenty of narrow escapes – Bruce had had plenty of narrow escapes – and he had seen things that he would not wish on anyone. Nights like that, when he could feel the thoughts buzzing in his head, he used one of the breathing exercises that Bruce had taught him and made sure to keep his mind away from what had happened. Sometimes he used a meditation technique; sometimes, he would put on some music or an audiobook, to get something else to concentrate on and prevent unwelcome images from chasing around behind his eyes. 

But this Friday night, after he had gone through his belongings to pick out what he would need for the coming months, he couldn’t help himself. 

It was painfully clear how little Dick had to his name. The few clothes he had taken with him from his parents’ trailer were long outgrown – everything he wore was paid with Wayne money. Every t-shirt, every sock and every pair of pants he packed in one of the suitcases were a gift from the man who now was pushing him away. 

The same went for all his stuff – books, technology, toys and equipment; and he had a lot of those because Bruce had never been mean when it came to presents or things that he thought that Dick needed. But he only had a handful of keepsakes from his old life. 

Instead of spending the Friday night as he had expected, as Robin, he had stayed in his room, agonizing over if he should bring any of his cherished possessions from his first home. Whether to bring the Flying Grayson poster that hung over his head, one of the few family photos, or perhaps one of the old and well-loved books he had managed to keep. 

Sometimes it was a comfort to have a few things that reminded him of his parents, but on the other hand, they would no doubt be safer in Wayne Manor. He didn’t know anything about how the lodging facilities would look at his new school. 

In the end, Dick packed the last photo ever taken of his parents; the three Graysons were posing outside the circus tent with a small boy who had fanboyed over Dick before what would be that fateful last performance. 

After some hesitation, he had added another family photo. Of his new family. Him and Bruce and Alfred. Just because he was mad at Bruce didn’t mean he had stopped loving the idiot, after all. Besides, it would surely be beneficial for whatever tales he was going to be forced to tell his new school mates, Dick had thought when he with a little sniffle wrapped the framed photography in a pair of pyjamas and put it down beside the Grayson family photo. 

But when it had come to choose between the Batman and Superman sport flasks, Dick didn’t feel the smallest twinge of conscience when he left the black Batman one abandoned on a shelf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ”last photo ever taken” of the Graysons is, of course, the one taken with Tim Drake, which turns up in Batman # 441. Let’s just pretend Tim’s parents at some time sent Dick a copy. 
> 
> Check out Dick’s promise to obey Bruce (or rather, Batman) on my Tumblr.  
>  [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/182612879125/bruce-made-dick-take-an-oath-in-his-the-very ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/182612879125/bruce-made-dick-take-an-oath-in-his-the-very)
> 
>   
> Normally, Dick wouldn’t hesitate to bring Batman merchandise with him. He is a certified Bat fanboy, after all.  
> [https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/185748467540/dick-grayson-bat-fanboy ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/185748467540/dick-grayson-bat-fanboy%22)


	3. Chapter 2 (Bruce / Dick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Dick avoid each other and Alfred drives Dick to his new school.

"Master Bruce."

"Hm."

"I am taking Master Dick to the boarding school now. Will you come with us?"

"... No."

"Will you at least come and say goodbye?"

"... I'm sure he doesn't want to see me. He's been avoiding me ever since I told him."

"You are mistaken there. Sir."

"... I just can't, Alfred."

"I see. It is not too late to call this bloody stupid scheme off, you know."

"You know why I'm doing it. It's what best for Dick."

"Master Dick would not agree. Nor, incidentally, do I."

"... Have a safe drive, Alfred. Tell him... tell him goodbye for me."

"Hmph."

Alfred shut the door to Bruce's study with pointed force, sighed and made his way downstairs. Dick had only made use of two of the suitcases, with the addition of a smaller sports bag, and they were already in the car boot. 

The boy was sitting on the bannister outside, staring over the sunlit grounds, still bare after the winter, with as stiff an upper lip as you could expect.

Alfred stopped behind him, swallowed and spoke in a voice much warmer than his professionalism usually made allowance for. 

"Well then, Master Dick. Are you ready?" 

"U-hm." 

"Master Bruce is his usual buffoon self. But he will miss you, and I believe it would be beneficial for both of you if you went up and said goodbye. You're not going to meet him for several weeks, after all." 

"No thanks, Alfred. Let's go." 

The answer, though it didn't surprise Alfred, still saddened him. However, the decision was not his to make. 

"All right then, lad. Hop in the car and we will head South. I estimate the drive to take about three hours. I have packed some snacks, and I hope I can entrust you the task of finding a suitable place for us to stop for a break, hm?"

Dick jumped down from the bannister and gave Alfred a forced smile.

"Sure thing, Alfred." 

– – – 

"And here is your room, Richard. You will be sharing with James. Good day, James. This is Richard, your new roommate." 

A boy with a mop of cendré hair and light skin, a touch red on the nose and cheek from being too much in the sun, stood up from an armchair and put his game console on the table beside him. He was dressed in designer jeans and a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

"Good day, Miss Patel. Hello, Richard," he said amiably and approached Dick with an outstretched hand and a smile that reached his brown eyes. 

Dick forced himself to answer with a bright smile and said, "Hello James," while he shook the other boy's hand. He was a born entertainer, after all; he could make everyone at Hillside Academy believe he was glad to be here.

"I'm James Montgomery III, whatever good that's supposed to do me. I want to be a game designer, but with my luck, I'll probably end up with the family business," the boy said cheerfully. 

"Richard Grayson. Uhm. I'm an acrobat. Or used to be, I guess I won't be going back to doing it. Professionally." 

Dick felt his face heat up over how he was stumbling over the words. It had been a long time since he had had to introduce himself; most everywhere he went in Gotham, he was known as Bruce Wayne's kid. Friendly people would talk about him as if he were Bruce's son; other would make a point of using words like "ward" or "brat" – or worse. 

"Richard is the foster son of Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises. And James' family own a successful medical technology company. It's pure coincidence that you're bunking together, but I wouldn't be surprised if your families' have business with each other," Amaya Patel explained. 

The brown-skinned woman had been tasked with showing Dick and Alfred to the boy's dormitory after a quick meeting with the school principal, who had made a poor job of hiding his disappointment that Bruce hadn't accompanied him. Miss Patel was the head matron at Hillside Academy, and when she explained that she held a few lessons in domestic science and cooking every month, Alfred's moustache had twitched. 

"I will leave you to do your unpacking, Richard. You may put your suitcases outside the door tomorrow when you go to your classes, and we will put them in storage for you. I'm sure James will accompany you to dinner," Miss Patel said with a glance at the boy in question, "and don't forget the curfew. No one outside between ten and seven."

"Yes, ma'am," Dick replied, none too pleased to be reminded that he was forbidden to go out for a nightly training run. 

Not that he had let Bruce's version of a curfew stop him from the occasional trip, but this was different. A roommate was bound to be a hindrance for his usual lifestyle, and he wouldn't want to get into trouble if his goal was to show Bruce how mature he was. 

But then, Dick thought with a flash of irritation, Bruce probably thought that curfew and a roommate were some of the good points will Hillside. 

"So, that is your side," James said, waking Dick from his thoughts and waving to the side of the room that was presently in the shadow. "I hope you like to wake up in the morning because the morning sun comes straight on the bed in the summertime. You can stuff your stuff in the closet and the chest of drawers and the bookshelf, and there are some boxes under the bed, too…So… I guess I'll head out and let you get in order." 

"Thanks, James." 

"Thank you, young sir," Alfred chimed in. 

"I'll be back before six, so we can go to dinner together, yeah?"

"Great," Dick nodded and plastered an even bigger grin on his face, feeling slightly maniac.

Left alone in the room, Dick and Alfred opened his luggage. 

"If you will give me your things, young sir, I will put everything in order." 

"Thanks, Alfred," Dick murmured and hunched over the first bag. 

Neither of them worked in a hurry, but it didn't take long to unpack and set everything in order. The chest of drawers was filled with causal clothes, socks and underwear, his school uniform and a set of nicer clothes – "just in case", as Alfred had said – were hanging in the closet, a few books and the electronic equipment he was permitted stood in the bookcase. He would be given his school books during the week to come, the principal had said. 

Lastly, Alfred carefully placed Dick's two family portraits on the chest of drawers and turned them so they were visible from the boy's sleeping place. Then he sat down at the bed, patted beside him and waited until Dick joined him. 

"I don't think I can postpone my leaving any longer, Master Dick. You're as installed as you're likely to be."

Dick stared down at the floor and felt his throat stiffen; he nodded instead of saying something. 

Alfred put one arm over the boy's shoulders in a slightly awkward hug. 

"I understand this is hard for you, dear boy. Just remember that the Manor is still your home. And even though I understand you don't believe it right now, Master Bruce is thinking of what's best for you." 

The Wayne butler got a snort in reply to that. Not that he had expected anything else. He rested his cheek on his surrogate grandson's black hair. 

"Goodbye, Master Dick. I'll see you soon." 

Alfred started to straighten up, getting ready to stand up but was temporarily hindered when Dick's arms encircled him in a firm grip. 

– – – 

"So, how come you're turning up in the middle of the semester, Richard? It's not often they admit new ones like that."

James had come back not long after Alfred had left – quite probably he had kept an eye open to see when the coast was clear. They had some time to get to know each other before dinner, and for Dick to learn about his new school. 

Dick was prepared for the question. There had never been any doubt that people would question his sudden appearance, and Dick had spent a fair amount of time trying to come up with an explanation. As close to the truth as possible; it was easier to tell a lie that had at least a grain of truth in it, after all. Batman lesson 1.0.1.

He had tried out several explanations in his head. However disappointed he was with Bruce, he didn't want to paint the man in a bad light. Besides, it would just fuel those old charity case-rumours. On the other hand, he couldn't stomach lying and claim that he had wanted to change school.

Eventually, he had settled on:

"Bruce – my foster father – wants me to have a more challenging school."

A convincing lie should have more details, but Dick just couldn't find the energy to elaborate. When he got questions, he knew how to answer – that Bruce wanted the best for him, his old school didn't have the advanced mathematics and chemistry he could study here, Bruce was impressed with the options of extra-curricular activities… 

"Bruce Wayne, huh?"

"M-hm."

"Going by the rumours, one wouldn't think he worried about education."

"Yeah, well, rumours usually aren't a lot to rely upon. Bruce is really serious about studies. And more studies. And then some more."

"Huh. Well, this place isn't too bad."

James flopped down on his bed, hands tucked under his head, and started rattling off a list of the teachers – nice ones, cool ones, pretty good ones and the occasional one to keep away from. Dick listened with half an ear and hummed in the right places, but mostly he was still trying to wrap his head around that it had really happened. 

He was here, in a boarding school in another state, more than 150 miles from the place he had become to think of as home. And Bruce planned for him to stay here for years, for all that Dick knew.

He pressed his eyes together as hard as he could, trying to stop the burning sensation of tears forming. He was the last Flying Grayson. He was.. had been… no, he was! Robin, Batman's partner. He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ordinarily, Dick would certainly bring Batman merchandise to a new home because it's canon he is a Batman fanboy. 
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/189128282360/dick-grayson-bat-fanboy ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/189128282360/dick-grayson-bat-fanboy)


	4. Chapter 3 (Dick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's first thirteen days at Hillside Academy passed as smoothly as could be expected. Until someone showed him the latest pictures of Batman.

Dick's first thirteen days at Hillside Academy passed as smoothly as could be expected. 

As far as boarding schools went, it wasn't, as James had put it, too bad. The school had managed to place him in classes that were either a bit too easy or the right level for him, the teachers seemed okay, and he got on well with the students he had met so far. There were about 300 in the school which covered middle school and high school grades. 

Dick had to admit; Bruce had done his homework well when he made the choice; not that he would have expected anything else from his overachiever to foster father. 

He had chosen several challenging sports for extra-curricular activities, as well as an introduction to pre-law and additional mathematics. He had joined the drama club and the guitar club – acting was a necessity in his chosen work, and he had always wished he had more time to play the guitar. It reminded him of evening gatherings at the circus, eating a communal meal, talking and laughing and listening to the music that usually filled the air, courtesy of some of the performers or roustabouts. 

His books about criminology were not hidden but in plain view, but he made a point of also being seen reading detective novels and playing appropriate games; if people thought he was a bit of a Sherlock Holmes geek, well, who was Dick to argue? 

One thing that Dick, however, tried to avoid was thinking about Bruce and Alfred; instead, he allowed everything new and unknown to fill his thoughts. But of course, he couldn't stop himself from missing things from home. The opportunity to train with a real trapeze, for one thing. When Dick realized that he stood in danger of losing his skill as a flyer and thus, another connection to his first family, it was one of his worst moments since he had left the Manor. He had had to run away from the other kids and climb a tree, as high as he could, to calm down.

Thanks to James, he had swiftly been incorporated in a loose circle of friends with boys and girls. In the gymnastic class, he had already started to enjoy a playful competitive relationship with the Astor twins. 

The Afro-French siblings, a few years younger than Dick and exceptionally talented, had their heart firmly set on a career as athletes; though they couldn't decide if they wanted to go for ice dancing, pair skating, or gymnastic. Bantering about what sports to choose was their favourite past time, as Dick quickly came to learn when he sat down with them for an afternoon snack at the lawn outside the gymnastic hall. 

"I like the high standard in ice dance. If you fall, you're out. Well, not out, but the deduction means you lose a lot," Geron explained to Dick. "In skating, you can usually make up for a fall, but in ice skating, you need to be on the top all way through." 

"Nah, ice dancing is way too earthbound. I want to jump high. I still say we go for pair skating," Elise stated.

"You know you secretly prefer the clothes in ice skating, sis. I've seen you sigh over those flowy dresses." 

"What I really want to do is wipe that smug smile off your face, and I can't do that if we compete as a pair. I think I'll go for gymnastics after all. Don't you think that's better, Richard?" said Elise, turning to their new friend. 

And then Dick laughed his first genuine laugh since his arrival and lay down on the spring grass as he answered, "Oh no, don't drag me into this. If I accidentally take one of your sides, you'll both turn on me! I know how if works."

All in all, Dick was avoiding to draw attention to himself but working hard on his classes, determined to have outstanding grades to shove in the face of Bruce at the end of the term. He was clinging to the hope that the stubborn man would see the error of his ways and let Dick stay Gotham for the next term.

Well, hope springs eternal, right? 

As he was filling his time with studies, and as many activities he could cram in his calendar, the days went past calmly. Until, in the afternoon on the fourteenth day since Alfred had left him at Hillside Academy, he heard some of his new friends talk about how Batman and Robin had been seen active in Gotham the night before.

Dick sat up straight in his chair, so suddenly it almost jumped; he had to take a deep breath before he was sure his voice was steady when he asked, "Are you sure?"

James gave him a curious look.

"What? You're a got Gothamite – don't tell me you'd be surprised Batman and Robin are out?" 

"Yeah – there's even a video. I mean, a really blurry and dark and pixel-y video, but it's so rare anyone catches them on camera, social media is going wild," added Janice Molomo. 

Dick took up his phone. He had on purpose only looked sparingly at Gotham news, but he needed to see if there were any truth in these rumours. 

Janice hadn't been exaggerating – as soon as he opened the Twitter app, he saw a blurry picture of two dark figures, apparently flying from one Gotham rooftop to another. Dick swallowed – there was one larger and one much smaller figure. Even smaller than Dick himself, if he were to guess. 

Dick's heart beat so hard he felt as if he could hardly hear himself thinking, and his hand shook while he was staring at the screen. So Bruce hadn't sent him away for the sake of his education, but to make way for a new Robin. Or whatever the new kid was calling himself. God, he'd better not use Dick's family nickname… The thought of Bruce betraying him like that hurt almost more than being instantly replaced. 

One thing was certain – the newbie was a hindrance for Batman, otherwise, the pair wouldn't have been caught on several pictures and videos, Dick thought viciously as he scrolled through every image and clip that the Gotham Gazette had published.

"Whatch'you scowling for, Richard? Aren't you happy to see them? Don't you Gothamites love your Caped crusaders?"

Dick took a deep breath, stuffed his phone away and put on a big smile. 

"Nah. Superman is much cooler. He can fly."

For the next half hour, he made an effort to participate in the small talk so the other students wouldn't notice how the news from Gotham had affected him. He longed for some solitude; something that he had quickly realize was in short supply at a boarding school where you had a roommate, communal eating and living areas, as well as days filled with classes and different activities. 

He could go for a cross country run, though, and sneak up in one of the trees. Dick excused himself, changed into appropriate clothes and made sure he had his phone and a power bank with him. 

Twenty minutes later, he was perched upon a tree branch, scrolling through every clip and photo on social media and the Gotham Gazette's site. When he looked at them more carefully, he had to admit that Batman and the new… "Robin" hadn't been all that conspicuous. What seemed to be dozens of sightings were in fact only two short videos, probably from different surveillance cameras. All the pictures were taken from those two clips, each a few seconds long.

It was still unusual – Batman knew the position of almost every camera in the city and would generally make sure they didn't pass directly in front of any of them. But it had happened that Bruce and Dick himself had been caught on video, if they were in a hurry to respond or if it was a new camera. 

Dick banged his head lightly agains the tree trunk with a little huff. He should feel better knowing that Batman wasn't working with someone incompetent that might endanger him – but truth be told, the sinking feeling in his stomach was of disappointment. Jealousy and disappointment. 

No matter what some people had called him behind his back, Dick had never felt like a charity case. Not knowing that Bruce was Batman and that Dick had a purpose, working with him. But now – now he really felt like Bruce paying his school fee was charity. As if the man was using his spare change to keep Dick occupied and away from Gotham, while Batman broke in a new partner. 

A rush of anger made him spit out loud," I don't want his charity, and I won't live on his money."

Unlike Bruce ”born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-his-mouth” Wayne, Dick had been raised to earn his keep. He had been working before Bruce took him in; he could do it again. 

Sitting perched high up in a tree, Dick Grayson thought about how he would map out a future away from Bruce Wayne and Batman. For a while, he toyed with the idea of going back to his original home. He knew that Haly circus was touring the French-Canadian areas. It would only take him a few days to reach his original home on Amtrak trains and a few busses.

But what then? Haly wasn't likely to agree to hide Dick until he turned 18. Even if Bruce had grown tired of Dick, Bruce Wayne couldn't afford to let a foster son disappear without raising some hell; it would be too much of a scandal.

He could visit the circus, though. To collect his thoughts – perhaps Mr Haly would have an idea… 

Frankly, it wasn't that he didn't have the money to make the trip. He had three different credit cards, and he had a decent amount of cash stashed away – Bruce's paranoia about having cash handy in case he needed to move without leaving a financial trail had rubbed off. And Dick had made sure to bring to several sets of false id papers to Hillside Academy, just in case. 

But going back to his first home and admit that he had been abandoned by his substitute family… that would hurt too much. And besides, Dick really didn't want to use more of Bruce's money than he was forced to. 

It was clear that Bruce wanted him out of his hair – so Dick was damned well going to show Bruce he could manage on his own. But he wasn't stupid – at the moment, all he had was Bruce's money and the things he had brought to school, paid by Bruce. He couldn't live on nothing and it would take time for him to build a new life and find a way to support himself. 

The smart thing would be to head away from Gotham, further South. He could easily find a job picking fruit or something like that, in a sector where the rules about child labour weren't applicable. Dick could easily blend in with migrant workers, legal and illegal.

But Dick just couldn't stomach leaving Gotham without knowing that Bruce would be safe. He had cash enough to get there and stay at a cheap motel for some time, and he knew he could get away from school and use the closest ATMs at some time this week and withdraw more. He knew where to buy a new phone, too; Bruce was sure to have a way to track this old one, so he had to leave that behind. 

He would get some more cash, but when he had spent the last of that, Dick promised himself, he would stop living on Bruce's money. 

The coming week he was going to make his final plans and prepare; then he would leave Hillside and head for Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick is definitely not work-shy – he has had so many jobs since 1940… I've made a list. 
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/619163285567242240/lets-try-a-new-job-this-week ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/619163285567242240/lets-try-a-new-job-this-week)
> 
> Dick canonically plays the guitar (and the accordion), and is something of a Shakespeare buff. 
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/184691171965/luanna255-this-is-your-canon-reminder-for-the ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/184691171965/luanna255-this-is-your-canon-reminder-for-the)
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/619057577733537793/play-it-again-dick ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/619057577733537793/play-it-again-dick)
> 
> The phrase "hope springs eternal" is famously uttered by Dick in Nightwing vol 2 # 110. 
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/619190873156190208/nightwing-vol-2-110-by-devin-grayson-art-phil ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/619190873156190208/nightwing-vol-2-110-by-devin-grayson-art-phil)


	5. Chapter 4 (Dick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a few hours after midnight, the night before Monday when Dick silently left the dormitory of Hillside Academy.

It was a few hours after midnight, the night before Monday when Dick silently left the dormitory of Hillside Academy. He had packed what he could carry in a medium-sized duffel bag that he had used for some of his stuff when he moved there. The school always seemed a bit more morning dazed on Mondays, so he figured he might gain some extra time before anyone realized that he had left. 

He had done what he could to change his appearance, on the odd chance that someone would miss him early and start searching while he still was in the area. However, there was only so much he could do while sharing facilities with other kids. Trying to do something about his black hair colour was too messy a task for a dormitory and a wig needed to be of good quality not to look conspicuous. But he made sure to comb his hair in a style he never ordinarily used. 

He had bought some basic makeup supplies during a visit to a drug store in a nearby shopping centre; with the help of shading and highlight, he had made his face appear a bit rounder than it actually was. A few strokes with an eyeliner gave his eyes a slightly different shape.   
Lastly, he put on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses – with the lowest strength he could find. If it worked so well for Clark Kent, it couldn’t hurt, Dick had reasoned when he had seen the stand with reading glasses in front of the cashier in the drug store.  
Dressed in his old jeans, a white t-shirt and a black, hooded jacket with fleece lining that he had bought in a thrift shop on the Main Street in the closest town, he was convinced that no one would give him a second glance.

Dick could, in fact, have taken a local bus straight from a nearby bus stop to a city big enough to be on a Greyhound line, and catch the bus to Gotham from there. Instead, he had opted to zigzag his way with local and regional buses. It would mean that a lot more people would see him compared to if he had taken the trip with only two bus rides; but on the other hand, there was a constant exchange of people and no one was likely to go the same way he was and take the same buses for any extended period. 

He walked for almost two hours to get to a bus stop far away from the boarding school, where the staff were not likely to call and ask for him. The first bus ride took him to a town that was big enough for new faces to disappear in anonymity, even though it was still pretty early in the morning. He waited there until the morning rush hour started before he took the next bus; he wanted to make sure to get lost in the crowds, just one school kid out of many. It wasn’t like he was in any particular hurry, after all.

Dick stopped for the first night away from Hillside Academy in a small town, about halfway on his planned trip to Gotham. He jumped off the bus shortly after seven o’clock, while the commuting still was going on, and had a bite to eat and used the bathroom at the bus station.

That left finding somewhere to try to catch some sleep and wait for the morning commute to start. He had purchased a cheap sleeping bag in a sports shop two stops earlier; a lone young boy trying to check into a hotel or hostel was bound to make people sit up and take notice. Better to stay away from commercial lodgings for as long as possible, and at least until he could find a place in Gotham that didn’t think twice about who spent the night.

Dick hoisted the duffel bag on his back and started walking, taking care to keep track of how far he went from the bus station. He had spent some time looking at satellite photos of the town on the bus ride to look for possible places to stay. A children’s playground with some kind of structure that would give him at least a roof over his head and parts of a wall had seemed the best bet, and he had mentally made a shortlist of possibilities. 

Before he could settle down for the night, he would have to check the huts for signs that it might be used for something else than children’s play. Empty syringes, plastic bags that might have contained drugs, things like that. But first, he had to wait for the playgrounds to be deserted for the night. 

Dick dismissed the first option straight away; the wooden ship that might have offered him a roof stood in the open and far too close to several houses. He might easily be spotted by one of the locals, Dick decided and trudged on to his next potential location. That one looked better – the playground was mostly hidden from sight behind a small grove. Unfortunately, a couple of kids were still playing, their mums and dads waiting for them when Dick arrived. By now, he could feel in his feet that he had, in fact, been using them since the early morning and he opted to climb a tree and rest on one of the branches. 

The sound of happy laughter and parent’s soft calls grated on his nerves. Dick made a point of looking anywhere but at the kids and their parents while he impatiently waited for the place to become empty, occasionally sighing loudly to himself. As soon as the last people had left, he jumped down and went to check out the wooden playhouse.

He quickly climbed up to the fort and lit his torch. When he immediately saw several empty syringes glitter in the light from his torch, Dick felt a wave of disappointment, and he had to fight to prevent a few tears from falling. No matter how worn out he was, he didn’t dare to stay the night if addicts or pushers might regularly use the playground. There was nothing to it – he had to walk on to another place. 

”At least there’s not likely to be any blasted kids playing at this hour,” Dick muttered to himself as he started walking again. 

When he arrived at the third playground on his list, he perked up once more. It was indeed empty, hopefully for the night, and stood with one side to a dense forest area and bare ground on the other side. The closest apartment blocks stood some hundred yards away, but trees outside the buildings would mostly cover the sight.

Dick walked hesitantly up to the raised, wooden fort in the middle of the playground while his heart started to thump uncomfortably hard. He climbed up and let his torch light up the inside; when he saw that it was empty and relatively clean, his knees almost felt weak from relief. He quickly climbed inside and shrugged off his bag, putting it up against one of the walls and sat down with his back against it.

It was still too early for him to dare to try to go to sleep; some kids might still come out for a last tour to the playground. Dick had brought a book and a travel light but with a sigh, he realized that he couldn’t use that – a light in the window hole would be far more visible than he was himself, and it might raise suspicions. Dick huffed, brought out the second-hand mobile phone he had bought, plugged the earbuds in and started looking for radio news.  
Later, Dick felt the first twinge of doubt over his plans while he was trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Would he really be able to take care of himself – he had no home, nowhere to stay, limited funds that he would run through in a couple of weeks and no guarantee that he could find a job. He would probably never be able to go back to school, and if he didn’t keep up his skills as a trapeze artist, his adult self would be severely handicapped when it came to finding a job he wanted. No funds also meant that he would never be able to afford the equipment necessary for Robin. 

Perhaps he should have gone to the Haly Circus, after all. Or he could seek out one of the other young heroes he had become friends with – surely Wally or Roy would help him. He snorted to himself when he thought how impossible it would be to stay with Garth in Atlantis, but had to wipe away a tear when he thought about that it was equally impossible to go to Donna. Though he had only known her for a short time, she already felt like a sister to him – but he was pretty sure Amazon’s had a stern view of fraternizing with males.

Dick grunted and turned again, trying to find a better position. No – there was no way he would be able to hide from Batman if he searched out any of his friends. The other Justice Leaguers weren’t stupid – they would notice if their partner were hiding Dick, and they would definitely not be convinced to try to keep something from Batman. 

He finally managed to go to sleep, daydreaming about hanging out with the friends he would probably never meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe I made a blog post about Dick Grayson’s hairstyles since 1940? So you can try to think of one that he’s never used and might be a good disguise…?   
> tumblr com / blog / northoftheroad
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/621441850823393280/dick-grayson-80-years-of-hairstyles ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/621441850823393280/dick-grayson-80-years-of-hairstyles)


	6. Chapter 5 (Bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The men at Wayne Manor gets the news that Dick has run away from Hillside Academy.

”Master Bruce! Bad news, I’m afraid.”

”Hm?” Bruce looked up from the tablet, where he was currently reading a document from Wayne Enterprise that Lucius Fox had assured him was vital. In Bruce’s experience, that could mean anything from a letter from a rival CEO to a draft of a contract that was under negotiation. If it were something essential, Lucius would simply write ”READ IT NOW” as the subject in his e-mail. 

”The principal of Hillside Academy just called to inform us that Master Dick has left the school.” 

”Left the school…? You mean – as in run away?” Bruce said incredulously, putting his tablet down. 

”That’s exactly what I mean, Bruce. He was gone this morning when his roommate woke up. It took the school some hours to realise that he wasn’t anywhere on the grounds. He probably walked away from the school during the night; apparently, there are several places he could walk to in less than an hour. They still haven’t managed to pick up his trail.”

”Darned kid,” Bruce grunted, massaging his temples. ”All I wanted was for him to be safe out of Gotham until I’ve got this blasted Thumb sorted. Thumb… Why does anyone decide to call themselves The Thumb, Alfred?” 

Alfred ignored him and kept talking. 

”I also talked to the Matron who says he left letters under his pillow, together with his mobile phone. One was addressed to her; she said he made his excuses very politely, reassured her that there was nothing wrong with the school or his fellow students but that he was leaving. She said there is a letter addressed to each of us, but he made a point of asking her to convey his wish that we would please look after his family heirlooms until he has somewhere safe to put them.”

Bruce groaned.

”Oh gods…”

”You should have told him. Sir.” 

”…”

”If he had known that you sent him away because you were worried about him and that you fabricated those videos of Batman and Robin and hacked into a number of security cameras to give the impression that he’s still out there, he wouldn’t have run away from school.”

”Come on, Alfred! If I had told him that a mobster has promised to kill him as a way to get to me, there would be no getting him away from Gotham. He would have offered to be the bait himself. And when I would refuse, because I sure as hell would refuse, he would cook up some hare-brained scheme for a trap himself and gone out anyway, and he would have given The Thumb all the opportunities he wanted to kill Robin. You know him… ”

Alfred sighed.

”Indeed I do, sir. And I acknowledge there is some truth in what you say. But at least he wouldn’t be on the run. Going heavens knows where. Alone.”

Bruce let his head fall into his hands and sat for a while, tapping with one finger on his right temple. Then he sat straight again.

”I’ll bet he’s going to Gotham. Of course, I’ll check if I can track his movements somehow – but if he left his electronics behind, that’s not likely – but I’m willing to bet he’s going here. He’s a curious little de… squirt. If he got it into his head that I’ve got a new Robin, he would want to see for himself.”

”You might be right, Bruce. But I will call Mister Haly at the circus, nevertheless. Dear me, he is going to think we are not fit to take care of the boy – this is the second time I have to tell them he has run away.” 

”Hm.” 

”Have you thought about asking Mister Kent for help with this Thumb character? He is not likely to be hurt by bullets or explosions, after all.”

Bruce made an involuntary, chuckling noise at the suggestion.

”You know what, Alfred. If I thought that anyone would be taken in by Clark in Robin’s suit, I would call him immediately.”

”I see your point, sir. But Superman could, however, be helpful in finding Master Dick.” 

”Hnh.”

”Unless, of course, you would be embarrassed to admit that your scheming has made your boy think you don’t want him.”

”Ouch… You’re not in a merciful mood, today, Alfred…” 

”Hmpf.” 

”I’m sorry, Alfred, but if Clark delivers Dick back to us, we’re back to square one. As soon as he gets wind of what’s going on, he’ll be out there…”

Alfred pointedly raised an eyebrow.

”Am I to understand, sir, that you think that Master Richard is safer on the run that he would be at home with us?” 

Bruce crossed his arms and pursed his lip, but when he didn’t give an answer, Alfred pressed on. 

”You see what can happen to children in Gotham – on a near-daily basis. And you still think he’ll be safe on his own?” 

”If anyone can take care of himself for a few days, I think we both know that it’s Dick, Alfred. I know for a fact that he has a fair bit of cash at his disposal… ”

”Indeed? And how, pray, do you know that?” 

Bruce actually squirmed a bit in his chair when Alfred raised two eyebrows in his direction. 

”Well… I’ve always preached to him about having cash ready. I checked his wallet and the place I know he usually keeps extra money before he left for school… And he has been withdrawing more cash this week. It did cross my mind what he needed it for; I thought perhaps some extracurricular activity at school…” 

”I see. I suppose it didn’t occur to you to make enquires?” Alfred said in a frosty tone that, somehow, made the man behind Batman’s cowl feel like a little boy who had done something really, really stupid. But Bruce took a deep breath and made his voice as authoritative as he could. 

”I made a priority of trying to eliminate the direct threat to Dick’s life. As long as Dick moves around as himself and not as Robin, I trust him to be safe for a few days. Now if you excuse me, Alfred, I will step up my effort to find The Thumb so we can put this behind us.”

Bruce stood up to signal that the time for talking was over, and turned in the direction of the secret entrance to the Batcave. But he stopped when Alfred continued, ”Excuse me, sir, but I have to ask. Did you honestly believe your scheme to keep Master Dick out of this would work?” 

”Alfred… It’s not that I don’t miss him, and it’s not that I don’t need him. But Dick would be better off away from Gotham. I admit… I permitted myself to hope that he would like the school, and want to stay. At least for a couple of years. He’s still tiny – I guess I know he’s never going to give up Robin, but he could use some growing.” 

The stern look on Alfred’s face softened, and he took a few steps closer to Bruce, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

”I understand, Bruce. I really do. I too have hoped that Master Dick would be content to leave the vigilante lifestyle. But I’m afraid that boat sailed a long time ago.”

The two men stood in silence for a while, both their thoughts dwelling on the boy who had, in a few short years, become the heart and light of the Manor. 

Bruce eventually sighed, straightened, and said, ”Alfred – when you have the time, would you drive to the school and get his stuff? I’ll talk to the principal as soon as I can. We’ll ask Dick when he’s back home, of course, but I’m willing to bet he’s not going to want to go back there. And he’ll like having the photo of his parents beside his bed when he comes home.” 

”Of course.” 

– – – 

Batman had been trying to get a lead on The Thumb for over two weeks, but the man – or woman, he sometimes reminded himself – had been successful in keeping out of the crimefighter’s way. From what he knew, the mob boss was a newcomer in the city, brazenly set on making a place for themself in the Gotham underworld. 

Batman hadn’t known about the new player until two mid-level crime bosses had been murdered in one night; their right-hand thumbs chopped off. The following night, a third mobster and a few of his men had gone the same way. None of Batman’s regular informers knew anything solid. 

By a stroke of luck, Thumb had made his entrance a Monday, during school day nights when Robin was not permitted to go out. Dick didn’t know more than the scattered details that had been picked up by the news media, and he didn’t suspect that a new crime war might be brewing in Gotham city. 

On the third evening, Commissioner Gordon had received a package. It contained the thumbs of the murdered men and a letter addressed to Batman. ”They say you can’t be scared. If you get in my way, we’ll aim for your kid and shoot to kill!”

That same night, Bruce had decided to get Dick out of Gotham for the duration and spent hours researching boarding schools away from the city. During those hours, he sometimes had hesitated and pondered whether he was overreacting – it wasn’t as if criminals hadn’t threatened the life of his young partner before. But The Thumb was an unknown. Batman could, up to a point, predict how Penguin or Riddler or Catwoman, or any of the other criminals that had used Robin to threaten him, would react. 

Perhaps The Thumb thought that it was possible to blackmail Batman to stay away; perhaps he thought that Batman would get sloppy in his grief if Robin were killed. Bruce didn’t know – and he had no intention of letting it go either way and take the chance that this new player intended to shoot Robin at sight. As Bruce Wayne, he had no problem convincing the school he finally chose to accept his boy as a pupil in the middle of the Spring term. 

Since then, almost a dozen middlemen – a few of them women – from different crime factions had been killed. The news media had yet to pick up on that something big was going on in the Gotham underworld, since none of the well-known names had been targeted. It would seem The Thumb was aiming to weaken the organisations of the Gotham crime bosses before he made a move on someone higher up. 

Bruce changed into his Batman suit in the cave but lingered in front of his computer, considering what he should do for the night. Apart from The Thumb’s killings, Gotham had only suffered ordinary street-level crimes for more than a week now. It might feel like a welcome reprieve for the city, but Batman was certain it was the calm before the storm. The gangs were staying low, and he hadn’t been able to pick up any relevant information for days – it was clear that everyone was nervously waiting for what was going to happen. 

He was just getting ready to head out for a regular patrol – at least he would get some criminals off the streets – when a shrill signal from his communicating system indicated that Commissioner Gordon was calling on the special telephone number that Batman had set up. 

”Commissioner,” Batman greeted curtly.

”Batman! Thank heavens you warned me last week that something big was about to happen. A gang just tried to murder the Mayor – she’s safe, thanks to the extra security we put in place. They’re escaping, heading South from the City Hall. Dark grey car, we’re trying to get info about a license number.” 

”I’m on my way. Call you back.” 

Batman rushed and jumped into the car. The Thumb certainly aimed high – if those were indeed his men – trying to put fear not only into the underworld but into those who governed the city. 

He wasn’t likely to be able to pick up the trail of the gangsters; their car could reach any end of the city before he had even reached the City Hall. But when Batman slammed his foot down on the accelerator, he felt a guilty relief that The Thumb finally had made a move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time Alfred had to call Haly circus and ask if Dick had turned up with them when he run away from Bruce was in ”Robin Year One”, from 2001. In my mind, that wasn’t more than one or, tops, two years before this story. And that Alfred had wished that Dick would leave Robin is clear in both Robin Year One and The Gauntlet (a story I can enthusiastically recommend). 
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/624516788297908225/originally-of-course-alfred-now-pennyworth ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/624516788297908225/originally-of-course-alfred-now-pennyworth)


	7. Chapter 6 (Dick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick arrives in Gotham, looking for his replacement and Batman.

In the evening, the day after his departure, Dick arrived in Gotham. 

He didn't really know the place. Oh, he knew all about the streets and the alleys and the districts and where the drug dealers had their business and which bars were likely to be hideouts for crooks. But Dick had never lived inside the city limits, never got to know it from the inside. Wayne Manor stood in splendid isolation overlooking Gotham; not even going to school and partaking in a number of recreational and social activities downtown could prevent him from feeling almost like a stranger. Traversing the city as Robin in nighttime was a whole different thing than walking around on ground level among people, at the busiest time of the day.

He felt drained after spending two days on the move. First of all, he decided, he needed something to eat – there were fast-food restaurants enough to choose from close to the bus station – but the question was whether he should try to find someplace to rest for the night, or stay awake and look for Batman and his new companion. Sunset was still about an hour away, but Batman wouldn't turn up for at least another four hours. With the assassination attempt on the Mayor the night before, and no news about anyone being apprehended for the crime, Batman was bound to be active. 

Dick didn't think of himself as particularly pampered. He had grown up in a cramped caravan, after all, and had been used to sleeping on the road and to help out with various tasks, both in the small family home and in the circus. He didn't need a butler to take care of him, or a huge room all for himself, or a ridiculously large bed with a soft, inviting mattress… 

But he had to admit, sleeping rough was – rough. He probably ought to stay away from lodgings for another night, but he was sorely tempted to visit one of the less particular but almost decent hotels he knew were available close by. A real bed, not to mention a toilet and a bathroom, sounded like heaven for the young boy.

On the other hand, Bruce Wayne would have been informed that Dick was missing, by now. He felt pretty confident that the man wouldn't make a fuss to find him – but he couldn't be certain that the information hadn't leaked out. People in Gotham might be on the lookout for the young runaway who was, on paper, still the heir to the Wayne fortune. 

Dick looked longingly in the direction of a couple of cheap but decent hostels that were situated on a back gate close to the station, but sighed; he had better sleep rough another night, and treat himself with a visit to one of the bathhouses in Gotham the coming day. 

He had seen enough homeless people during his Gotham nights to have ideas about what places might be occupied, and where he had a chance to find a decently safe place to rest. What he actually wanted to do was to climb one of the fire escape ladders to seek refuge at a roof, where he would not only have a big chance of finding somewhere to rest in peace, but also would be in a perfect position to look for Batman later. But at this time of the day, it would be difficult to find somewhere to climb without being spotted. Robinson Park, on the other hand, would be seeing more people leave than arrive by now and he had a few ideas about places where he might be able to doze for a couple of hours. Dick tried to cheer himself up with the thought that he wasn't going to stay long at whatever uncomfortable location he found since he was going out to look for Batman and the newbie later. 

It wasn't as much consolation as Dick had wished, but he adjusted his duffel bag and started walking towards Gotham's largest park.

– – – 

Shortly after midnight, Dick was on the move again. He had managed to catch a few hours restless sleep in a sparsely used ticket boot to a dance pavilion in the park. It had been tempting to try to make the place into a small nest and leave some of his stuff there, but in the end, Dick huffed at the notion that he even considered leaving his stuff unguarded in Gotham. He couldn't afford to lose even cheap clothing, so he hoisted the bag onto his shoulders and headed out. 

He had used some downtime to make sure he could pick up the Gotham police scanner on his mobile. When he listened to the chatter, it was evident that the police hadn't found a suspect for the attempted murder the night before and he felt confident that Batman and his new companion would be in the city by now. He left the police scanner on, stuffed the phone in a pocket and started to jog towards the City Hall District. Hopefully, he would catch some police car report that they'd seen the Batmobile; otherwise, he would have to take the chance that his former mentor was going to move around the crime scene. 

As soon as he found an empty back alley on the south side of Andru Street, Dick took to the roofs. He still hadn't heard anyone talk about Batman on the police scanner, so he would have to try to pick up the trail from the rooftops.

If it was one thing from his Robin gear he wished he could have brought with him, it was a batarang with rope or one of the batpoons– or why not one of those new grapple hook guns that Batman had got lately, as long as he was dreaming, Dick thought wryly. 

At least he had procured a serviceable line that he had combined with some bola weights to have something to help him get around on top of buildings. It was nothing near the quality of Bruce's custom made lines – and he was definitely hindered in his movements by his duffel bag – but it would help him to move around to some extent.

Dick spent the following hours on the rooftops around the City Hall, looking for any sign of Batman and partner. Sometimes, he would stare over the roofs, hoping to catch a glimpse of the pair grappling; sometimes, he would hang precariously over a roof edge and look for the Batmobile. He tried out his homemade bola-line on a few occasions, but it was embarrassingly evident that it wasn't any help when he wanted to cross a street. He did manage to swing over a couple of narrow back alleys, but whenever he tried to throw the line to catch a chimney further away, the bolas invariably ended up dangling down in the street. More than once did they get tangled in the fire escape stairs. Dick supposed he should count himself lucky that the metal bolas hadn't crashed anyone's window, and reluctantly made use of a lot more fire escape stairs to move between buildings than he was used to. 

He knew it was something of a running gag that Batman's superpower was that he was rich. The first time he heard it, he had been a bit affronted for his mentor. Being rich had nothing to do with Bruce's intelligence and persistence and his detective skills; all the long hours he had put into training and learning and doing the leg work. Since Bruce had never seemed offended, Dick had got into the habit of using it for mild teasing himself. But even one night of trying to do a vigilante's work on what Dick could afford, he had to admit it was a great deal of truth behind the joke. Batman's expensive equipment certainly wasn't everything, and it could never replace the skill and strength that hid behind the cowl, but it sure made things a whole lot easier…

Dick finally gave up hope on spotting Batman or his companion when the sky started to light up with the rising sun. Neither had he heard a word about Batman on the police scanner, and he couldn't help feeling a stab of worry. How come Batman wasn't involved in something as big as an attack on the Mayor? The man had dedicated himself to safeguarding Gotham and its inhabitants, after all – it wasn't like him to let an attempted murder of an elected official go unnoticed.

Unless something huge was going on with the Justice League, of course – that was the only thing Dick could think of that would prevent the man from coming running if some mobster tried to murder his way into power. 

Dick sat down at the fire escape outside an empty office window and fumbled with his phone, starting to once more check different news sources. None of them had any reports on Batman, with our without a partner. Neither could he find anything on international och national news about a crisis that could explain Batman's absence. 

Of course, that meant nothing... Batman was no doubt looking for the would-be murderer in another part of the city. Sure, he was Batman after all, he had probably found enough clues last night to point him in the right direction. Why would he bother with coming to the City Hall when the shooters were long gone – Batman was already cornering them somewhere else, Dick thought determinedly to himself. 

He checked his electronics and sighed when he realized that both his phone and the phone charger were low on charge; the fact that he had made sure to buy a solar-powered power bank wasn't much of a consolation as long as the sun hadn't risen. He thought longingly about the special mobile he had got from Bruce but left at Hillside Academy; it had a much better battery life than ordinary, commercial phones, especially a second hand-one. He would have to find somewhere to charge them as soon as possible. 

The last couple of days, he had been fascinated to discover that some public buses had USB charging outlets for the travellers' convenience, but he didn't know if any Gotham buses had them. As Dick Grayson of Haly's travelling circus, he had hardly ever gone for a ride on a public bus. And neither had he as Dick Grayson of Wayne Manor, although of pretty much the opposite reason.

Before Dick put away the phone to preserve what charge he had left, he did a quick search for internet cafés that opened early and when the nearest bathhouse would open. He knew it wasn't a good idea to be the first person in line when the place opened – he would be that much more memorable if he turned up before anyone else – but it felt good to have an idea of where he could go and spend a few hours of the coming day.

It wasn't like he had anything else to do until night had fallen over Gotham anew, after all. Dick stuffed away his phone and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on the roof close to the fire escape on the office building. He could rest there for a few hours before the employees turned up for the day – he wouldn't want anyone to see him when he climbed down to the street, after all. And then he just had to walk real slowly up North in the city to keep himself occupied. 

The bath house first, he decided before he closed his eyes to try and not think of his current predicament and catch some sleep. And then he would check out the gaming café on Moldoff Avenue. No one would look twice at a young boy, spending hours in front of a screen at a place like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick was already Bruce's heir in a story from 1944. At that time, Bruce Wayne was more comfortably wealthy (he even went broke for one story in the Golden Age) but by now, he's ridiculously rich. 
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/183674718275/nightwing-son-of-batman-part-2 ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/183674718275/nightwing-son-of-batman-part-2)
> 
> For anyone curious about what Gotham looks like, I've posted the map I'm working with.
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/182322627835/this-is-the-gotham-map-i-work-with-for-my-fic?is_related_post=1 ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/182322627835/this-is-the-gotham-map-i-work-with-for-my-fic?is_related_post=1)
> 
> Batpoon, whatever is that, you say? Why, a harpoon for bat-themed vigilantes, of course. As for instance in World's Finest Comics # 18.
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/627176424422424576/the-batpoon-an-early-gadget-from-worlds-finest ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/627176424422424576/the-batpoon-an-early-gadget-from-worlds-finest)


	8. Chapter 7 (Bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman has a talk with the Commissioner and searches for information in places where Dick never looks.

Police commissioner Jim Gordon flinched when he turned in his office and found himself face to face with the Batman, standing silently by the window. After years of cooperation with the vigilante, he probably ought to be used to the man coming and going as silently as if he were materializing out of thin air, but no such luck. 

”Damn, Batman! You’re a clever man – surely you know how to use a door…”

Much to Gordon’s lack of surprise, Batman ignored the gibe. 

”I came to compare notes about the assassination attempt yesterday evening. I suspect that The Thumb is behind it. So far, I have found no proof.” 

Gordon sighed and sat down at his desk. 

”Neither have we… We found the getaway car in flames early this morning. It had been stolen less than an hour before the attempt took place – the owner didn’t even have time to miss it.” 

Batman considered for a few seconds.

”It wouldn’t be the first time a mock car theft was used to alleviate suspicions.” 

”I know, I know. Of course, we’re checking out the car owner’s story,” said Gordon, and picked up a paper to read from. ”The Reverend Jefferson Williams. His wife Xenia, archaeology professor. And their four kids, age five to eleven.”

He shrugged and put the paper down. 

”Heaven knows eleven-year-olds can be capable of more mischief than should be humanly possible…”

Batman grunted in response. Gordon found it impossible to determine if it was a grunt of agreement, an argument or perhaps even an acknowledgement of the little joke, though he wouldn’t keep his breath waiting for the third option to happen. At least as long as the man came alone. 

”Talking about kids… I see you’re not bringing Robin.” 

”Robin will not be part of this investigation.” 

”I’m glad to hear that. Since we did receive a direct threat against his life.” 

After another grunt, Batman remained silent, and the Commissioner eventually found himself compelled to fill out the silence. 

”We’re taking in everyone we can think of for questioning, but honestly, I don’t have high hopes. The only thing that points to that The Thumb is behind the attempt is that we can’t find anyone who seems to know Anything. If it were anyone of the old crew, we should have got hold of someone who refused to talk by now. But everyone insists that they don’t know Anything.”

Batman inclined his head. 

”A fair point. The Thumb is still relatively new and probably works with a small circle of people.” 

”That’s what I was thinking. Well, at the moment, I can’t see that there’s much else we can do. The Mayor hasn’t received any threats… No, let me rephrase that. The Mayor hasn’t received any threats out of the ordinary for a politician and a woman in a position of power.”

”I’m sure you’re doing everything you can, Commissioner. I’m in the same position, myself. That’s why I intend to spend this night pursuing other avenues.”

”Oh?” Commissioner Gordon lifted his eyebrows. ”Anything you care to tell me?” 

It was probably a trick of the light, but for a moment, Jim Gordon would have sworn he saw a small twitch in the corner of Batman’s mouth.

”Let’s just say I hope I don’t end up in your interrogation chair. That would be a waste of both your time and mine.” 

– – – 

Batman had been using the alias Matches Malone when he needed to collect information from the underworld for a few years now – since before Robin had come into the picture. He had actually tried out a fair number of aliases before he settled on Matches Malone – and he still cringed internally whenever he happened to recall his first trial. He had called himself Irving O’Neil, claimed that it was a Scottish name, and had been forced to jump in the harbour to escape the gangsters who exposed him within minutes. Several other names and disguises also went down the drain, since the crooks in Gotham didn’t trust a newcomer. 

The alias Matches Malone came with the advantage of a reputation since Malone had been a small-time arsonist from Hoboken, well known in Gotham’s underworld. When the man died, and Batman was the only one who knew, he grasped the chance. He buried Malone in secret and took up the identity. As far as the world knew, Matches Malone still lived in a derelict flat in Newtown, even if he pretty often was out of town.

The criminals of Gotham might not know a lot about The Thumb. But if Bruce knew his city, there would be rumours flying around. No-one would tell the police, or perhaps not even answer a threatening Batman, but it would nevertheless be whispered over beers or a game of cards. And somewhere among those rumours, there would be a grain of truth.

So Batman drove home to his cave where he exchanged the sombre but dramatic armoured batsuit for jeans, striped shirt and a garish, checkered blazer that Bruce Wayne wouldn’t be caught dead in. And even if Bruce Wayne – who didn’t always use all his brain cells to their full potential, if you asked some people – would have happened to want to wear a garment like that, his butler would have put his foot down. Hiding his true appearance behind make-up, brown hair and thin moustache and a pair of glasses, instead of a cowl and mask, Batman set out to visit the seediest bars he knew in Gotham. 

If Robin had been working with him on the case, he would have made a joke about that it was a shame that the Gotham rouges didn’t have an employment agency for goons, Batman wistfully thought as he drove a nondescript car into Gotham. The city didn’t suffer from a lack of joints where he would have a chance to pick up some vital information, which meant there were a lot of places for Matches Malone to put in an appearance. 

In the few years he had been working as Matches Malone, he had made a point of never staying very long at any place. Malone went into bars, bought a beer, perhaps played a game of cards or two. He seldom stayed more than an hour – time enough to pick up on what the clientele was talking about – which made it possible for him to visit several clubs or bars in one night when he was hunting for information.

His first stop was McSurley’s – a nightclub frequented by almost every lowlife in Gotham. The crimes Batman had prevented or solved thanks to a visit to McSurley’s would almost fill its own scrapbook if Bruce had been so inclined. 

The nightclub was as crowded as ever. Malone walked down the stairs, flicking on a match, and exchanged a quick greeting with the waitress while he observed the place. A card-game was going on in one corner, but most of the customers were chatting or cheering the entertainment. Batman weighed his opportunities – a game of card was often a good place to start since most people liked to chat while they were playing. On the other hand, he spotted a small circle of familiar men talking in a corner.

Batman had picked up useful information from the little group more than once and had so far left them in peace, even though he no doubt could have found evidence to put them In jail if he wanted to. They sometimes took a gig for one of the city’s mobs or supervillains, but left to their own devices they tended to stick to petty crimes. As long as Batman didn’t catch them in the act, he considered them to be more useful to him on the loose and leading him to the bigger fish. This night, they were sitting close enough to the bar that Matches could stand there and order a drink – and hopefully overhear something. 

Since the men were a couple of brothers, Jim and Jake Kelley, and a guy they had known almost since childhood, Fred Northup, he might just as well end up hearing about their children’s school as Anything in relation to The Thumb, but it still seemed a good place to start. Malone threw his match with an unerring aim in a thrash container and made his way to the bar. 

– – – 

The rest of the evening and night, Matches Malone spent in much the same manner. Going into a bar or a club, assessing the best position to hear someone talk about The Thumb and staying for less than an hour. Sometimes, he was just listening to customers talking; once, he sat down to play cards; and at a few occasions, he made small talk with people he knew, as the brothers Kelley and their friend. 

While he walked between the bars, Bruce kept glancing at the rooftops. Dick would probably have reached Gotham by now, and there was no doubt in his mind that the boy would climb as high as he could to try to find Batman and the imaginative replacement. He sure had made a mess of that effort to keep Dick safe… 

At times, Bruce could almost hear Alfred’s disappointed voice in his ears. Those wore the easy moments – when he remembered Dick’s pleading, he felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. The Gotham court had given Bruce Wayne the task to keep Dick Grayson safe and happy – instead, he had put that desperate look on the boy’s face and made him beg to be permitted to stay in his home… 

Each and every time, Bruce resolutely pushed away the memories and prepared himself for a new performance in whatever club was next in his list. 

By the end of the night, Matches Malone had spent time in seven places, if he counted the parking lot where he happened to run into a couple of acquaintances. Pretty much every scrap of information he had picked up pointed in the same direction – that The Thumb and his gang had a headquarter of sorts in the Hill. It was one of the city’s underprivileged areas, where people had enough of their own problems and seldom had the energy to spare to put their noses in anyone’s business – including taking an active interest in the neighbourhood, to be honest. There were also a fair amount of more or less abandoned warehouses around the harbour; prime real estate, as far as Gotham criminals were concerned. 

Considering that The Thumb was a new mobster, and involved in a violent power struggle with both the city’s authorities and other mob bosses, it had been surprisingly easy to pick up rumours about the gang. Not to mention that almost everything pointed in the same direction. The normal state of affairs would have been for a good deal of the whispers to be completely opposite to each other. By all rights, Batman would have to spend a lot of time sifting through information, matching possible leads with what he already knew, and in the end, check out a handful of different locations to find the right place. 

When everything indicated that The Thumb was holing up in the Southern part of the harbour blocks of the Hill, it looked more like an open invitation to drop by than Anything. 

Well; Batman supposed he would have to spring the trap, the coming night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Crisis, the real Matches Malone, a mobster, was killed in Batman # 242. After that, Batman (and Robin, for a short while) disguised as the man. This was the same story arc that introduced Ra’s al Ghul. Dick had moved out of the manor and was a student at Hudson university when this happened.  
> Post-Crisis, Bruce had used Matches Malone as an alias since he was a young Batman (as told in Batman # 589). The real Malone was a ”small-time arsonist from Hoboken”. When Batman believed he was killed, he took up the identity. Only the real Malone turns up again, but is of course killed in the next issue…  
> While I prefer the pre-Crisis origin story for Ra’s and Talia, in this story, I go with that Bruce had used Matches Malone as an alias since before he took Dick in. It saves me the trouble to invent another criminal alias for Batman, you see.  
> If you want a look at Batman as Matches Malone, I recommend ”Last Call at McSurley’s”. A black and white story written by Mike W Barr, art Alan Davis and Mark Farmer, printed in Batman: Gotham Knights # 25. I took some inspiration from that story for this chapter.


	9. Chapter 8 (Dick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A quick, gleeful smile lightened his face when he confirmed that the room was dark and the equipment silent – if the doors had been opened with the official digital code, the computer would already be up and running with a connection to the central Batcomputer. His hack had been successful – Batman would never know that Dick had been in here unless he at some future point missed the things Dick intended to bring with him."

In the afternoon after his first night wandering around Gotham, Dick Grayson had decided two things. One; that he would visit one of Batman's safe houses in the city and grab some equipment to make his task easier. Wounded pride was one thing, but by now, he was prepared to set that aside for a short while because a couple of bat-lines would make all the difference in his task: to find and keep up with a new Dynamic Duo. And two; he needed to find a place to stay for a couple of nights. Even though he hadn't really been doing anything all day, except walking, sitting in front of computer screens, and scrubbing down at the bathhouse, parts of him ached as if he had been in a serious fight. 

Two nights of rough sleeping had taken its toll, as had to carry his belongings with him at all times – he sorely needed a good nights sleep. But since that was out of the question – because Dick was going to spend the night looking for Batman, wasn't he – he would have to sleep during the day. Ergo, he needed to pay for two nights. Which meant he couldn't go to a hostel with dormitories. 

First things first. Dick knew just the safe house to pay a visit – it was located right under a public garage between Robinson Park and Gotham University, less than twenty minutes walking from his current position. A false wall behind a janitor's closet in one of the stairwells hid the entrance to an underground room. He knew it was stocked with extra equipment and suits as well as civilian clothes, some food and a cramped bathroom. Batman hardly ever used the place, and Robin had been the last one to work with the electronic locks and surveillance system, as part of his training. He felt confident he could get in and out without Batman noticing by hacking the locks and prevent that the Batcomputer was alerted. 

Dick made his way to the building and as he had expected, getting inside was no problem. At this time of the day, the stairwell wasn't crowded, and it took him less than a minute to hack the electronic lock into the janitor's closet. No one but Batman and Robin had access to the place, and no one gave the timeworn door a second glance. The cleaning service and maintenance in the building was divided between three different contractors – every cleaner or janitor who passed the outer door thought it was the domain of one of the other firms 

And if someone would get second thoughts, and actually manage to break through the steel-reinforced first door, all they would find was a slightly messy cleaning closet with a large metal basin and a supply of tools. 

As soon as he came inside, Dick moved a cart loaded with disinfectants, sponges, brushes, buckets and more, and pushed two parts of the decrepit wall. A portion of the panel opened to show the second electronic lock. Another minute of hacking and the wall slide to the side to let Dick into the safe room proper. 

A quick, gleeful smile lightened his face when he confirmed that the room was dark and the equipment silent – if the doors had been opened with the official digital code, the computer would already be up and running with a connection to the central Batcomputer. His hack had been successful – Batman would never know that Dick had been in here unless he at some future point missed the things Dick intended to bring with him. 

The black-haired boy shrugged off his duffel bag and sat down in one of the two chairs inside the room, and gave the computer in front of him a wistful look. How much easier it would be if he could turn it on, listen to the police scanner and several news sources as well as any communication from Batman, all at the same time… With a sigh, he let his head fall forward in silent defeat – it would take too much time to hack the system and prevent Batman from noticing that his former Robin was active. No, he should get what he needed and get out again; he still needed to find a place to stay for the next few days. A couple of hours' sleep before nightfall would no doubt do wonders. 

Dick twirled the office chair back and forth while he looked at what was available. There was a cupboard with foodstuff and first aid on the higher shelves and extra bat-equipment on the lower – his primary objective when he came. But the piece that stood out was a massive wardrobe with transparent doors which run all along the longest wall in the room; it contained spare Batman and Robin suits as well as assorted civilian clothes. You never knew if you had to take refuge in a safe house together with a civilian in need of help, so there were clothes for both males and females, in different sizes. 

Spinning around on the chair, Dick thought about his options. There was a fresh Robin suit with all the equipment right there, after all. It was bound to be a bit on the tight and short side since even the simpler, spare Robin suits they kept in safe houses were expensive to make and couldn't all be exchanged as soon as he gained an inch, but he knew it would still be wearable. He let himself imagine putting on the familiar colours – he could almost feel the material against his skin, and for a moment, he broke out in a nostalgic smile. 

When he realized what he was doing, his cheeks tensed and his eyes narrowed. If Batman had chosen another boy as Robin, Dick didn't want to wear the suit again, no matter how much it would sting to see his nickname used by another. Not that he knew that his replacement would be called Robin, but the pictures he had seen had been enough like his suit that it would make little difference. 

Still, Dick had come here for the purpose of collecting gear, and some of the best equipment he could wish for was built into the Robin suit. He gave the chair an extra spin and jumped off to stand in front of the wardrobe. 

Dick determinedly opened the glass door to the wardrobe and picked out the utility belt and green gauntlets, and after a seconds hesitation, he also snatched the domino mask. He wouldn't want anyone to spot him as Dick Grayson, after all – with a mask and the nondescript hoodie he could keep his head down. And it wasn't like the new kid would like to use Dick's old stuff anyway, he told himself – he might as well make use of it. Waste not, and all that. It was practically his duty to take care of the equipment.

He checked all the compartments of the utility belt to make sure everything was in place, putting it inside his bag when he was satisfied. Then he walked over to the cupboard with extra equipment and opened the doors. 

The new grapple hooks guns that Bruce was so proud of were still too rare to make into a seldom-used safe house. There was, however, a batpoon on a shelf, but Dick knew it would be too bulky for him to carry with him and he turned his attention to a box, filled with batarangs of different models. He flipped the lock open and, without hardly having to look for them, picked up three extra batarangs with lines. Sometimes you had to leave them behind, and it was the most essential piece of equipment he had come for, after all.

He put the box back where it belonged and was just going to close the door when his eyes fell on a box with protein bars. He grabbed as many as his hand could take and put them into his bag, hesitated a second and then took another two and stashed them in his pocket before he closed the door – he would probably be grateful to have some extra food in just a few days. If he had to spend money on a hotel for at least two days, it would make a substantial dent in his cash fund, after all. 

Dick took one last look around the place to make sure he hadn't missed something and turned the chair to the same position it had had when he arrived. It burned a little in his eyes when he turned to leave – it would be the very last time he was in any place connected to Batman's life, after all. 

He huffed in an effort to keep tears from forming – he had left an old life behind him and started from scratch before. He could do it again. 

And the next step he needed to take right now, it was to get out and try to get a room. Dick had been looking during the day, and he had some options; unfortunately, all of them in another part of the city. Cheap, hopefully decently clean, and in a part of the city where Batman usually patrolled. 

Dick hoisted the bag over his shoulder, opened the door out to the janitor's closet and turned off the light on his way out. He was very pleased with himself that he didn't give in to the wish to turn and take one, last look. 

\- - - 

"85 bucks for a single room," the receptionist said, without looking up from scrolling on the phone when Dick stopped before the counter in the small hotel that had happened to be the closest on his list of possibilities. 

Dick took a look around and considered for a while – the price was all right, all things considered, and the lobby looked about what he could expect from this kind of hotel. He was ready to say okay when he turned back towards the receptionist and realized that while he had checked out his surroundings, he himself was under scrutiny. 

The receptionist's eyes wandered slowly over the boy and didn't stop until they met his eyes straight on; Dick felt as is something was crawling over his body, and he quickly looked away. 

"If that's too rich for you, perhaps I can fix something…" the receptionist said, slowly. 

Dick flinched, as a wave of coldness rushed through his body. It took him a few seconds to collect himself; then he backed away, cleared his throat and said as calmly as he could," Thanks, I'll try somewhere else."

He hurried out, not even pretending to be polite and listen when the receptionist hollered mockingly," Suit yourself, kid – but you're not likely to get a better deal somewhere else". 

Half an hour later, Dick was still shaking slightly when he locked the door to his hotel room. He tossed his bag on a chair and threw himself on the bed, curling in on himself while he tried to reason his fear away. He was in another hotel, several blocks away, nothing had even happened, he had heard so much worse as Robin! And besides, for all he knew, the receptionist had recognized him as Dick Grayson and thought they could get an in with Bruce Wayne – truthfully, the receptionist hadn't said anything threatening. It might just have been in Dick's imagination… 

Logical reasoning didn't help as much as he would have wished; he felt alone and vulnerable as he hadn't done for a long time. Even when he, as Robin, had been taken prisoner, he had always been confident that Batman would come. Here and now, he knew that he only had himself to rely on and the thought of stripping to take a shower made something wrench in his gut. 

Dick took a deep, long breath and forced his body to relax, disgusted with himself – if this was how he reacted to minor hardships, Bruce had been right to replace him as Robin, he thought bitterly. He turned to lie on his back and kept breathing, determined to do better. He was going to calm down, take a shower and rest for a couple of hours. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander freely in a meditation exercise. 

He would accept that he still felt apprehensive – and perform whatever acts he needed to reassure himself. That meant, most importantly, to secure the room. Dick sat up and looked around to see what he had to work with. 

A few minutes later, a chair was jammed under the door handle, and he had made a makeshift door wedge out of a t-shirt and the hotel Bible. A glass stood in a coffee mug on top of the chair – they would fall off if someone tried to open the door, and he could be sure that he would wake up. He had made certain that he could open the window quickly, and had planned where to put his bag so he could grab it and leave. 

Dick felt better when he had done something practical to keep the room safe. Now, for that shower. He still had a few hours to rest before it was time to go bat-hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly not sure how common safe-houses around the city (or country) are in canon comics. But the idea makes kind of sense and at least in Nightwing vol 2 # 141, Dick asked Bruce to buy a number of houses in New York (where he was currently operating since Blüdhaven had been destroyed) for safehouses. Have a look, if you want.  
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/633584112261840896/nightwing-vol-3-141-by-peter-j-tomasi-art-rags ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/633584112261840896/nightwing-vol-3-141-by-peter-j-tomasi-art-rags)


	10. Chapter 9 (Bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman finds his way into The Thumb's lair.

Bruce Wayne slept until lunch, put in a brief appearance on Wayne Enterprises for a meeting in the early afternoon, and returned home to prepare for the night. At least he had a lead – probably a trap, Batman mused, but nevertheless a lead on where to find The Thumb. And if the crime boss were eagerly awaiting a visit from the Batman tonight, he would get his wish – but the vigilante didn't intend to go in like a lamb to the slaughter. He might not have a partner to watch his back at the moment, but that didn't mean he would be an easy target. If he knew what he was going to find, and where, he should be able to clean up the mess tonight.

In the middle of his research on the real estate situation in the Southern part of the harbour in the Hill, to find the most plausible place to find the new mob gang, an alarm was triggered, and one of the side monitors flashed to life. Batman looked up, brows furrowed, and pushed his chair over to see what was happening. The alarm had automatically pulled up a live feed from one of his Gotham safe houses to show what had triggered the signal.

His face relaxed in a fond smile when he spotted his wayward boy on the screen, walking inside the room and sitting down in one of the chairs. After a moment, he cocked his head, and his eyebrows lifted – by rights, the Batcomputer should have signalled him as soon as the doors to the safe house was opened. 

He double-checked to confirm that he hadn't missed anything; the only possible conclusion was that Dick had hacked the doors. Bruce nodded slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth; he really had to hand it to the boy; his hacking and breaking-and-entry skills were excellent. Too bad that Dick didn't know about the new motion sensors that he had installed last month, the dark vigilante thought wryly. 

There had been a few occasions when he thought he might have gone too far with the sensors. Mice had tripped the alarms in various safe houses more than once before he had managed to calibrate the sensors correctly, but now he was glad he had done it – and that Dick didn't know about them. If the boy had known, he might not have dared to enter the safe house. Bruce felt better, knowing that Dick had the opportunity to get vital equipment that would help to keep him safe until all this was over. 

He stayed, glued to the screen, all through Dick's visit. He smiled when the boy spun the chair as the fun-loving kid he, at heart, was; nodded in appreciation when the utility belt and other vital equipment was packed down, but narrowed his eyes when Dick took the extra protein bars. It could be a worrying sign that the boy wasn't eating properly – surely he couldn't have spent all his cash money already? 

Bruce's face took on a stony expression when Dick made himself ready to leave, and the boy's feelings were evident on his face. The Thumb had a lot to answer for, to put them in this situation. 

When the door to the janitor's closet closed behind Dick, Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had a lot to answer for himself; he had to admit, for the way he had handled the situation. Hopefully, by tomorrow, he could locate Dick and start to make it up to him. 

– – – 

Standing on one of The Hill's highest building, Batman could see the cold, bright light surrounding Arkham Asylum to the South. Gotham River painted a dark line that curved both the West and the North side of the island, with scattered lights from Sommerset, Mooney Bridge and Bristol on the far side. To the East, the warmer lights from Knights stadium contrasted to the dark patch of the Giordano Botanical Gardens.  
His Matches Malone flat wasn't far away, and he could point exactly to where in the distant darkness Wayne Manor was situated. He even had a fairly good idea about where to find The Thumb and their gang. 

Batman had spent the early evening over a list of the warehouses alongside the harbour front. His first consideration had been who was renting space or if the warehouses were currently empty – an empty space might be rented out all of a sudden, so he had worked under the assumption that the mobster was renting a place. He had sorted out some firms or people he had reason to believe were legitimate, or wouldn't let themselves be used as a front for a new mob boss. When that was done, he had looked at the rented locations – a gang would need to be undisturbed and would prefer not to have their headquarter wall-to-wall with a bustling market street or a busy warehouse where legitimate goods were moved around the clock.

He had ended up with three possible locations. When he first arrived in the area, he had made an external check of all three of them and concluded that the best option was the one on Jimenez Street. Currently, Batman was standing on a rooftop about fifty yards away from the entrance, keeping watch with his infrared binoculars. With the help of a camera mounted on a small drone, he could also watch the building from all sides, from top to bottom.

After almost two hours, he had seen nothing to confirm or contradict his suspicions. Very few people or vehicles were moving around the building, which was to be expected either way. 

Batman shifted on his feet. On the one hand, he didn't want to hurry – to fail to be prepared was to prepare to fail, after all. Without back-up, it was important not to take any unnecessary chances. The Thumb wasn't going to go away, and would probably keep laying low until Batman had sprung the trap. On the other hand, he didn't want to leave Dick alone and miserable in Gotham any longer than necessary. 

If he could take care of The Thumb today, he could easily find Dick tomorrow, and explain himself. He silently promised he would grab the boy for a hug, even if they were surrounded by paparazzi, and ask forgiveness and take him to his favourite ice cream place. No, surely Dick would prefer to go home and see Alfred first – they'll visit for ice cream later. It would be important for them to be seen together, to repudiate any rumours that might be fueled by Dick running away. He would have to call Dick's old school to arrange for the boy to go back again – but not until after the weekend. He would like to keep Dick close for a few days; the boy could study at home and make sure he was up to date with the curriculum. 

His brain screeched to a halt when he realized that he couldn't be sure where Dick would want to go to school. After this whole fiasco, perhaps the boy would welcome a bit of distance to Wayne Manor, Batman thought with a sinking feeling in his gut. He would have to ask Dick… 

Batman was torn from his musings when a car turned the corner of Janin Alley and Jimenez Street and drove on to stop in front of the building he was watching. One man jumped out to open the doors, large enough to make room for loading trucks, and the car disappeared into the warehouse. 

It was enough, Batman decided, to warrant a visit into the building. He manoeuvred the drone back and stuffed it into a pouch in the utility belt before he crouched to pick up the grapple hook gun. 

Soon, Batman silently slid open a window of the building. All the information he had pointed to that the most likely place for The Thumb's gang was on the two underground levels. They were likely to keep a close eye on the few, small windows from the upper of those floors, Batman reasoned, which was why he was getting into the building further up. 

It was dark where he climbed in, and the echo from his movements indicated that the place was a vast, empty space. Just as he had expected from the information he had accessed earlier in the night. He activated the night vision mode of his lenses and looked around – the place was indeed empty, save for a few pieces of thrash scattered around. From the drawings, Batman knew that a staircase was situated in the corner of the place. He silently walked over and tried the door. 

Locked. Well, that shouldn't be a problem for one of Gotham's most skilled burglars‚ Batman swiftly produced his lock-picks from the utility belt. Less than thirty seconds later, he carefully pressed the door handles to open, frowning slightly when both the handle and the hinges whined. He waited a full minute inside the door, to listen for any sign that his entrance had been noticed, before he started to descend the stairs, making sure the door was unlocked behind him if he needed a swift escape. 

He paused at each floor, checking for lights and sounds to indicate activity. As expected, it wasn't until he reached the upper basement that he could see the faintest sliver of light seeping through under the door from the staircase. Before deciding on a course of action, he continued down to the lower basement; it was all dark there.

Batman hesitated for a while, weighing his options. If the gang occupied the upper basement, they probably had the lower too. If he went in that way, he might find some material to indicate what the band was planning. He might even find evidence enough to involve the police. 

On that optimistic notion, Batman took out a small bottle of oil and dripped on the hinges, around the handle and inside the lock, before he got his lock-picks and coaxed the lock open. He waited a minute, to give the oil a chance to seep through the hinges before he carefully pressed the door handle and pushed the door a few inches. When everything remained silent and dark, he opened the door wider. Still no sign of detection; nor could he see any sign of surveillance cameras. He took three careful steps inside, letting the door stay slightly ajar behind him. 

The locale he had entered was a moderate size storage area. Apart from a few large cardboard boxes and plastic sacks along the wall opposite him, it was empty. Batman made his way over. He lit a small torch and methodically lit up the stuff to examine. 

Boxes of take-out food. Last weeks newspapers. It would seem that he had walked into the gang's kökkenmödding. Batman carefully lifted a few things, but when there didn't seem to be anything incriminating, he moved on to the door out of the room. He went through the same ritual as with the last door – dripping oil, picking the lock, waiting a minute before he started to open. 

It was still dark, silent and no sign of either people or surveillance when he moved into the next room. However, this place showed more signs of being used. It was furnished with a number of tables and chairs and even two couches – presumably, this served as a place to congregate and eat. He made his way over to the tables, examining every scrap of paper that was lying around in the hope of finding some clues or evidence. 

Fifteen minutes later, Batman at least had a fair idea of what fast food restaurants the gang was using. He could also ascertain that they were reading articles about The Thumb's gang, the Mayor and an upcoming exhibition with ancient jewellery at Gotham museum. However, he rather doubted it was a sign they intended to rob the museum. It might be a tempting prize for someone like Catwoman, but from what Batman knew, the objects weren't worth enough money to make it worth its while for a criminal gang.

Batman took a last look around the room and decided he had learned what he could – time to go on. Two doors were leading out of the room, not counting the one through which he had entered. Batman walked up to the door to the right from where he had come in and tried the handle. From the blueprints, he knew it would lead to the main warehouse. The door wasn't locked, and the handle moved smoothly.

He slowly opened the door into a large space where a few cars and minibuses were parked. In the middle of the dark area, the drivable slope was shining with light from the upper basement floor. Apart from that, there were no signs of activity, but Batman knew someone could come down from the upper floor at any time. Still, the cars were a tempting target – they might very well contain something that could be used as evidence. He let the door slide back after him and took a few steps further. There he stopped, to stand and watch for a good five minutes before he was convinced he was alone. He walked up to the closest minibus, intending to open and start examining. 

Batman was still a few yards away when suddenly bright light flooded the place. Instinctively, he brought up a hand to shield his eyes from the brightness and at the same time, he heard the sound of several doors opening. He closed his eyes to avoid the distraction of over sensitive eyes and relied upon hearing to tell him what was happening. 

Heavy shoes on the concrete floor – at least six people. The click of the safety on handguns – at least four. None of the persons stood close enough for him to reach them with his fists, but there was no sound right behind him. He might have a chance to escape the way he came.

Without opening his eyes, Batman threw himself in a backwards handspring, landing with his back a yard away from the door where he had entered. Before anyone had the time to aim, he had ducked, turned and jumped for the door. In that same instance, the door was opened and when Batman opened his eyes, stared into the barrel of a gun. A man, dressed in a dark purple, striped suit held the gun steadily in his hand.

"See boys, I told you the Batman would pay us a social call if we asked nicely," the man said, with a quick, humorless grin. 

He made a shooing gesture with the gun at Batman, who straightened and took a few steps back. At the moment, he was short of options. 

"Everyone speaks highly of you in this town, Batman. I knew it wouldn't take you long to find our little hideout. That's why we've been on the look-out for you for the last days and nights. And you sure got close to us, before one of our sound sensors picked you up in that stairwell."

The man, who Batman presumed was the one calling himself The Thumb, paused, stared at Batman, and eventually went on. 

"Not the chatty type, are you?" 

After another bout of stubborn silence, the man shrugged, and continued, "I haven't fulfilled my promise yet. Where's the kid?" 

"Robin isn't coming, Thumb. You'll have to make do with me." 

There was not a quiver in Batman's voice that betrayed his feelings, as he had the muzzle of a gun pointed straight at his head and was covered by several more firearms. 

"Oh no Batman – everyone and their aunt know the brat is always hot on your heels. Perhaps I'll even let you live. A long and miserable life, when you remember that I killed your boy right in front of you. That it was your choice, to come and find me even though you know the price. That it was. All. Your. Fault."

Slowly, The Thumb let his eyes wander from Batman to a small group of his men. He jerked his head in Batman's direction and said, "You know what to do with him. And let the guys know to spread the word we've put an end to Batman. That will get the brat come running."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the original story that I'm taking inspiration from, Batman is lured into a trap by an ad in the newspaper. In the good old days, Batman wasn't omniseeing and all-knowing and always prepared for everything. Though, to be fair, he was sure it was a trap, even then. 
> 
> I'm not sure if you could count on drones to be invented and in use when Dick was Robin, even if you count from him being Nightwing today and imagining that the technological advances have been at about the same pace as in the real world (apart from obvious exceptions, of course). But even Golden age Batman used a camera on a colossal batarang once, to gather information about a place. 
> 
> See what I did there? I named two more streets in this chapter, Jimenez Street and Janin Alley in The Hill. It's for Phil Jimenez, comic book artist extraordinaire (and a modern-day Pieter Bruegel the elder, if you ask me). His take on Dick Grayson can be seen in, for instance, Infinite Crisis, JLA/Titans, Wonder Woman vol 2 # 164–167 and Nightwing vol 4 # 39.  
> And for Mikel Janin who drew Grayson, until he was switched over to Batman – I have several issues with the writing, but I love his art. 
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/189344996460/so-i-recently-saw-an-exhibition-in-brussels-about ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/189344996460/so-i-recently-saw-an-exhibition-in-brussels-about)
> 
> Have I mentioned that their utility belts are little Tardises – bigger on the inside…? 
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/178984730830/why-the-bat-utility-bel](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/178984730830/why-the-bat-utility-belt-is-a-miniature-tardis)


	11. Chapter 10 (Dick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his new equipment, Dick is ready for one last night at the Batman's tail in Gotham.

The sun was setting over Gotham, and it was time to prepare for another night on the rooftops. Dick Grayson sat on his hotel bed, checking the equipment he had lifted from Batmans safe-house. He felt better after he had finally managed to relax enough to get a few hours of sleep, though part of him wanted nothing more than to curl up under the duvet and continue sleeping. 

But with the equipment in the Robin utility belt, he had a fair chance of picking up Batman's trail this very night. He let his thumb brush over the communicator from the utility belt. How easy it would be to locate Batman and his new partner – it felt almost as cheating… 

Not that it was anything compared to what Bruce had done, he reminded himself bitterly. The man had sent him away and replaced him – all in less than two weeks. Dick just wanted to put everything behind him and find some way to make a fresh start, as soon as possible. If everything went well this night, he would take the next day and night to rest – he had paid for two nights, after all – and then leave the dreary, miserable city of Gotham forever. 

The problem was, as soon as he turned on the communicator, Batman would know. Batman would be able to find him and ship him back to the boarding school. 

Or Batman would ignore him. Dick didn't know what would be worst, to be honest. But then, he had no intention of finding out what Bruce would do. 

He opened one of the compartments in Robin's utility belt and took out a set of electronics tools, before turning on the Bluetooth on his smartphone. It was a good thing that he was well trained; with a bit of tinkering, he should be able to turn off the communicator's outgoing signal so that he could observe without being observed.

When he had finished with the equipment, he debated with himself whether to climb out the window or leave by the front door. Walking out of a hotel when his mind was in Robin mode felt awkward – but as long as he didn't put on the mask, he looked like any teenage boy. After all, he would run less of a risk of being spotted if he climbed the fire escape on an empty office building, compared to a hotel full of people. He shrugged, zipped up his jacket so it would cover the utility belt and put the mask and the gloves in a pocket. All set to go.

Half an hour later, Dick was standing on a rooftop. He was still in the Upper East Side, a few blocks from his hotel. An involuntary shiver run through his body – it was a bit chilly, and an unwelcome change from the hot shower and heated hotel room where he had been able to relax. He crouched leeward beside a chimney to get as comfortable as possible and took up the communicator – it was high time to start tracking Batman and the new partner.

The communicator lit up, and a blinking bat-symbol on the display indicated that it was searching for signals on the designated bandwidth. After less than a minute, the one and a half-inch display was filled with a crude map over Gotham. A red dot indicated that there was another bat-communicator active in the northern part of the city. It was difficult to see exactly where on the small map, but Dick knew it would be enough to let him find Batman when he got closer. With a satisfied smile, he put the communicator back in his belt, stood up and started to plan the best way to get over town and cross Sprang River. 

Despite himself, Dick enjoyed the trip over Gotham. The bat-line made it so much faster and easier – more like fun than vigilante activity, really. If things worked out, it would be his last night flying over Gotham, so he might as well make the most of it; Dick made an extra flip on the way between two tall buildings, landing with a soft roll on the concrete roof. Whatever happened, he couldn't see himself not doing this in the future – flying in the night, helping people. Bruce had taught him a lot; he wouldn't waste it.

He kept going until he reached one of the buildings overlooking Sprang River, with Arkham Asylum looming on the left side. The river was too wide for him to get over airborne; he would have to get down to cross. Dick sat down, his legs dangling over the side of the building, and opened the communicator to check for Batman's signal. 

By now, he was close enough to see that Batman was in the Hill. By all accounts, the man hadn't moved far since Dick first spotted him, which probably meant that he was surveilling something or someone. Dick would have to be careful when he got closer – he knew by experience that Batman was skilled in spotting if someone was flying over the Gotham rooftops. If he had a cent for every time his mentor had lectured him on how he stood out as a black silhouette against the city lights and that he needed to take the background into account… 

The boy slowly wagged his head from side to side, considering his options. He could climb down and cross the river by foot, get back up on the roofs for the trip to the Hill, and down again when he got close to the Hill. Or, he thought with a mischievous smile, he could take the bus. Batman had made him memorize all forms of communication in Gotham, after all, and that included the buses. There was a bus nearby that would take him straight into the Hill in a way that Batman couldn't possibly expect. 

Dick stayed on the bus until the end of the line, inside the Hill's residential part. It was a predominantly poor, black neighbourhood, but dressed as he were, nothing made the young Wayne heir stand out. He moved confidently and purposeful, like any teenage boy returning home late. No one gave him a second look when he walked on, heading towards the harbour area and the warehouses. He had managed to sneak a look during the bus trip, hiding the communicator behind his mobile, to check that Batman was still in the same place. 

The streets were empty when he passed into the part of the Hill that was dominated by warehouses. The occasional car, van or bike was parked on the roads but most blocks, he didn't spot any people. Dick stopped a short distance from a fire escape that ended six feet above grounds and looked carefully around; when he was confident no one was in sight, he made a short rush and jumped up, grabbed hold and swung himself up. He quickly moved some storeys further up before he stopped and took up the communicator again. 

It felt like his heart skipped a beat when he saw how close he was – the red dot from Batman's equipment was only one building away; if Dick were to go up on the roof, he might even spot his former mentor. He worried at his lower lip; it probably wasn't a good idea, because if he could spot Batman, Batman would probably spot him…

Before he decided how to proceed, perhaps he ought to see if he could pick up any communication between Batman and his new partner, or with the bat cave. Dick changed his grip on the communicator, and his thumb hovered over the audio button, wiggling up and down. It would be the first time he heard Bruce's voice since he left the manor… 

After a few seconds of hesitation, he firmly pressed down the button. He was already wearing the earpiece connected to the communicator, and he immediately heard that it was working – but that no one else was using the line. Dick huffed, took a quick look around and sat down at the steps, trying to get comfortable. If Batman was on serious surveillance, it could take time before he heard any kind of communication. He would just have to keep the line open. 

Half an hour later, after listening to nothing but empty silence, Dick decided that it wouldn't hurt if he alternated between listening on Batman's frequency and checking in on other sources. He could listen to the police scanner in the other ear, from his mobile. And he could take turns with the bat-communicator to listen for Batman and see if he could pick up any other signals nearby. 

He got the police scanner up and running first; the constant buzz of different signals felt soothingly familiar, and he spent some time listening to make sure that nothing big was going on. Then he started fiddling with the surveillance on the communicator. The first step, he decided, was to monitor how many mobile phones were active in the vicinity. There was hardly any traffic on the street, nor could he see more than a handful of lights inside buildings. By all accounts, there shouldn't be a lot.

The small map on the display flickered while the device collected the data, and Dick's eyes widened when he saw the result. One building over, there were too many mobile signals to tell one from the other in a small area. His heartbeat immediately raced when he realized that the signals came from the building where Batman was. He quickly changed the communicator's mode to double-check, and yes, the red dot indicated that Bruce's communicator was still active in the building on Jimenez Street. 

But only Bruce's. Dick swore silently to himself when he realized that he hadn't thought about that all night – if Batman had a new partner with him, surely their communicator would have turned up on his screen too?

He changed back to the surveillance map, and surely enough, there had to be about a dozen mobile phones in the same building as Batman. Was Batman spying on them? Or was he with them…? 

He knew that his communicator could listen in to conversations unless the callers were using first-class encryption on their mobiles. But Dick did feel a twinge of uneasiness – growing up in close quarters and surrounded by people, he had learned that it wasn't nice to eavesdrop on conversations, whether on mobile or in person. That Batman didn't bat an eye at bugging most everyone hadn't managed to change Dick's instinctive dislike – he only felt comfortable when he was sure that the caller was up to no good. 

But he was sitting next to a dark warehouse, that by all accounts should be empty for the night, and five or six mobile phones were making calls from one place… It just didn't feel right. Dick swallowed, picked one of the signals on random and turned on the decryption function. 

The first call he overheard was a guy calling about some groceries he hadn't been able to pick up. The second was about a malfunctioning car. 

Dick hesitated again. Perhaps there was some kind of legitimate night-time office inside what looked to be a warehouse. Perhaps it was a place where the night shift security guards in the are worked from. Should he give it a rest or listen in to another call… He reminded himself that Batman would never stop trying, just because he had failed the first two times. But then, just how much like Batman did he want to become? 

His parents… Dick seldom thought about his parents and Batman as if they had existed in the same universe. His parents and Bruce Wayne was fine; he was certain John and Mary Grayson would have approved of how Bruce took care of Dick. But Batman – that was something else. 

Every time the thought came up, Dick convinced himself that his parents would at least like that he helped people as Robin. He saved lives; he made sure murderers and robbers were prosecuted and couldn't hurt people again. But he couldn't shake the fear that they would disapprove of so much of what he did as Robin – using violence, learning to handle weapons, scaring people instead of making them smile, learning to question everybody's motives, to distrust and lie. 

And eavesdropping. 

Dick worried his lip again – Batman still hadn't moved from the spot. If his mentor was in trouble, how could he not continue trying? And where was the new Robin, the person who should be guarding Batman's back in the warehouse this night? The question why Bruce had wanted to replace him if a new partner wasn't more help than this burned in him.

" Sorry, mum and dad", he mumbled and chose a third phone call to tap into. 

"… under a bushel. The boss wants everyone to know he got the Bat. Yeah, spread the word and start the celebration." 

The call ended with hoarse laughter. Dick stared numbly at the communicator and wondered why the display all of a sudden was so blurry. He could hardly see what was on it. 

Oh. It was him – his hands were shaking. 

Dick huddled down on himself, sitting on the fire escape in a dark and unwelcoming part of Gotham. Too many thoughts were firing across his brain; he needed to calm down and think. He shut his eyes and concentrated on his breathing for several minutes. 

When he opened his eyes again, he felt collected enough to get to work. The man hadn't really said that Bruce was dead – he might be a prisoner. As long as there was hope, there was life. And if Bruce's new Robin weren't up to the task, it was up to Dick. 

Dick knew that he was good – he was very good at what he was doing as Robin. But he had nothing to win from being overconfident. One teenager against… how many? He checked the surveillance map once more on the bat-communicator – it still looked like about a dozen mobile phones in the building, but that didn't say a lot. Many people had more than one phone; few had none. Eight to ten men, if Dick were to guess.

Bruce would have cautioned him and told him that Robin should hide in the shadows, sneak in and search for information. That's what Batman would have done. 

By all accounts, that's what Batman had done. And now he was… captured or killed. What chance would Robin have if Batman had failed to sneak in? 

Besides. What did it matter what happened to Dick – if Batman was really gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On my Tumblr (Northoftheroad) I've posted some canon proof that Dick is proficient in hacking and technology. 
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/641137705163603968/the-original-boy-tech-wonder ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/641137705163603968/the-original-boy-tech-wonder)


	12. Chapter 11 (Dick / Bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick makes a desperate effort to save Batman.

_"What did it matter what happened to Dick – if Batman was really gone?" _Bruce would surely scold him for thinking like that… Dick might spend an hour planning how to get into a building, and the man could still get stern lines around his mouth and grumble about how Robin took too many risks.__

__Dick shook his head impatiently. He needed to snap out of it if he was to have a chance to save his… to save Batman. And the more information he could gather, the better chance he stood._ _

__He started the web browser on his phone and used it to retrieve a blueprint of the warehouse. He studied them carefully to commit them to memory – once he acted, he wouldn't have time to stop and look. When he was satisfied, he put the phone in the pocket inside the jacket and zipped it closed, silently reminding himself to hoist up the jacket to have free access to the utility belt once he moved in._ _

__Dick rose from his sitting position on the fire escape and took a deep breath. He'd done this on a nearly daily basis for a long time – there was no need to feel jittery, just because he didn't wear his familiar suit. After all, he did have the essential parts with him – a belt, a mask, and a pair of gloves._ _

__Dick pushed his hands into the deep pockets of his jacket and felt the reassuring feeling of a stiff domino mask and a pair of reinforced gloves. The adhesive glue on the spare mask would keep it in place; it only took a couple of seconds to put it on, with the ease of something you had done hundreds of times._ _

__However, the green gloves didn't, it turned out, fit like a glove. They were a bit on the small side – he was a growing boy, after all, and the spare gloves weren't new. It sure was a good thing the base material was flexible. Dick opened and closed his hands a few times – it would be all right for the night._ _

__As ready as he was likely to get for his last mission in Gotham, Dick climbed down to the street and headed over to the building._ _

__As far as one could see from the outside, the warehouse was dark and empty. He took a quick walk around the block, trying to look inconspicuous while he checked on all the windows he could see. There were no visible lights to indicate that people were in there. Unless Batman's surveillance technology was way off, the people with the mobiles were hiding. Quite probable in one of the basements – which were accessible by motor vehicles._ _

__Batman would say that he was throwing away the element of surprise if he came blazing into the building. And sure, the men would hear him coming. But they wouldn't know who he was – he might just as well be a local kid out on a joyride. And if he could find a motorbike – steal someone's bike, to be honest – it would give him some much needed extra power._ _

__Dick pursed his lips – all right; he had a plan. There had been a few bikes parked on his way into the area – he'd be able to hot-wire one in a minute. He would make sure that the owner was compensated later – he firmly pushed down the "if he survived" that popped up unwanted in his brain._ _

__But first of all, he needed to sneak back and check the front doors. A mere bike probably wouldn't be able to crash them open – he would have to do it manually._ _

__– – –_ _

__The attack passed almost in a blur. Dick had planned everything he could in advance, but once he set his plan in motion, everything went so fast he didn't have time to make conscious choices._ _

__As soon as the bike pushed open the unlocked front doors wide open, Dick could see a faint light at the end of the ramp down to the basements. He didn't drive very fast – the motorbike's weight would give him a considerable advantage; he didn't have to come in at a breakneck speed that would make it difficult to see what was happening._ _

__When he spotted a group of men on the lower floor, he revved up the motor and steered right at them. The men stared at him, evidently surprised, and once they realized he wasn't going to stop or veer, they didn't have much time to scatter. Dick swiftly slammed the motorcycle on its side and jumped – the 400 pound mass of steel and rubber crashed into several of the men's legs._ _

__Only seconds later, Dick had already knocked out another man one the way out of his flip, using a piece of what had once been the leg of a chair as a makeshift baton. He landed in a crouch and, after a quick look to decide on his next target, threw himself into a handstand and landed feet first on the man's head._ _

__By now, more men were rushing into the place. Dick kept jumping, hitting and kicking, knocking out two more men and definitely hurting a few more – until his last flip was stopped with a hard and unyielding hit to his diaphragm. He fell down on his hands and knees, crouching and trying to catch his breath. In the corner of his eyes, he saw one of the men lowering a worn plank._ _

__He had taken at least six men out of the fight in less than a minute – but it wasn't enough. Dick felt as if his brain was stuck in a loop of hopelessness; why was it that he was never good enough – not enough to save his parents, not enough to save Batman…_ _

__He heard one of the men sneer, "You little wildcat", and gasped when a hard boot kicked him in the side. Dick fell over and knocked his head against the concrete floor; he curled up and waited for the inevitable._ _

__A man in a purple suit walked up in front of him – but stopped several steps away. "The brat came, just as I said." The man – the boss of the gang, Dick guessed – glanced at one of his men and nodded. "Open the door and wake him up. I want to show the Bat I keep my promises."_ _

__The man limped away towards a door out from the large room while two other men walked up to the boy and yanked him up. With firm grips under Dick's arms, the men followed the rest of the gang inside a smaller room, where three containers were standing in a row._ _

__When Dick was hauled into the room, the door to the middle container swung open. The man in the purple suit turned to him._ _

__"I promised your old man we'd let you live if he left us alone. Too bad for you he didn't listen, kid." He turned his glance towards the four of his men that were still standing._ _

__"What are you waiting for? Two of you get in there and drag him out. Be quick about it, and the knockout gas won't affect you."_ _

__The man that had opened the door jerked his head to one of the others, who made a face but stepped forward. It only took them a few steps to disappear from sight inside the pitch dark container. Meanwhile, the men who had dragged Dick let go of him and took a few steps, staring with apparent anticipation at the open door._ _

__Dick was too tired to struggle. He stayed on the floor, hung his head and felt his eyes tear up inside the mask; if Batman was still alive, and the crooks had meant to keep him alive until they could get their hands on Robin, he had been wrong to hurry. Whatever happened to Bruce would be Dick's fault. He knew the gang had Batman – he could have called Commissioner Gordon. He could have called Superman – he would have kept Bruce safe…_ _

__A short, hard sound echoed inside the container. Dick flinched – it sounded more like a punch than grabbing someone. Figures, that the jerks were hitting an unconscious man…_ _

__Sounds kept coming from the container, but of a different kind. It was neither the short sound of a punch nor the continuous sound of dragging. Dick tried to breathe through the pain and concentrate on finding the correct answer. In front of him, the purple-clad man shifted and called, "Hey! Get him out of there!"_ _

__A few second of complete stillness followed – and then the sound of someone running the few steps out from the container. Dick's head jerked, and he stared, wide-eyed, at the opening._ _

__"Batman!" several voices shouted as a dark figure crashed out in the room. With two men down inside the container, Batman felled the Thumb's remaining two henchmen in the blink of an eye. He swung round, and with three long steps, he was standing in front of the mobster. The Thumb had had enough presence of mind to grab his handgun from his pocket, but he was too riled up to fire; the dark vigilante batted it out of his hand before he could pull the trigger._ _

__Batman took a two-handed grip of Thumb's jacket and lifted him from the floor. His voice was ice-cold when he said, "You didn't think I keep everything in the utility belt you made me remove, do you, Thumb? I was out of the handcuffs before you started to fill the container with sedative gas. I wasn't sure how long I should stay put. Considerate of you to open the doors for me."_ _

__He kept the man hanging in the air while he was talking; then, quick as the release of a spring, threw him against a concrete pillar. The crime boss collapsed on the floor._ _

__The figure of Batman seemed to deflate when he turned from the gangster towards his runaway child._ _

__"Robin. May I have your communicator to call the GCPD."_ _

__Dick grunted, rummaged in a pocket and gave it to him. In return, he got a handful of plastic cuffs that Batman had hidden somewhere in his suit._ _

__"Help me tie everyone up – but don't go alone to the other room. I've cuffed the men in the container."_ _

__The boy accepted the plastic bands and grunted again. The first joy of seeing Bruce alive and well had subsided, and Dick remembered that he was disappointed and angry with the man. But he couldn't just up and leave, in the middle of a band of gangsters. He walked the few steps over to the man in purple – Thumb, Batman had called him. The man's eyes were closed, and he didn't move a muscle when Dick turned him over and put on the restrainers while Batman had a brief conversation with the police._ _

__Shortly after, all the Thumb's gang members were handcuffed and ready to be picked up by the police. Dick took a deep breath. Now that Batman had things well in hand, he was prepared to leave and start the next chapter of his life._ _

__Less than two weeks ago, Dick had shied away from the thought of returning to his old home, the Haly circus. If he was unwelcome at Wayne Manor, why would the circus be any different? But now he felt better about himself – for all that his rescue attempt hadn't turned out as he hoped, he had helped save Batman one last time. He could go back with his head kept high, and he felt ready to blackmail Bruce into fixing things so he could stay with the circus._ _

__Dick straightened and turned to Batman._ _

__"Guess I'll make a nuisance of myself somewhere else", he said – and if Dick's voice sounded more sniffling than sneering, it could surely be put down to all the dust in the warehouse._ _

__Batman sighed internally. He could understand what was going on in the boy's head. And he had promised himself to hug Dick as soon as he could – but surrounded by crooks in a state of more or less consciousness was rather crossing the line._ _

__He glared at the tied-up mobsters lying around. Some of them were still conscious. It wasn't like anyone in Gotham didn't already believe that Batman and Robin were family – The Thumb had practically made that his business model. But he still didn't feel comfortable confirming it and paint the target on Dick's breast in even brighter colours._ _

__Nevertheless, the boy deserved to be reassured. The police were well on their way – Batman and Robin could leave. He made a point of relaxing his facial expression as he walked up to his boy, put a hand on Dick's shoulder and squeezed for a couple of seconds before he steered him lightly against the way out. Dick moved stiffly, but he did follow the silent instructions._ _

__Batman cleared his throat and spoke._ _

__"You know I'd rather lose both arms than you."_ _

__He could feel Dick tense up even more. The boy pressed his lips together and stared down in the ground – presumably he didn't want to speak as long as anyone could hear._ _

__Right enough, after another minute, Dick shrugged off Batman's hand and spoke in a strained voice._ _

__"You could have fooled me, Batman!"_ _

__They were well out of eyeshot from the gang – and if there were any security cameras active, well, Batman could take care of that later. He stopped and dragged the boy in for a tight hug, one hand around Dick's back, the other cradling the black-haired head._ _

__"I know, I know, I made such a mess… You heard the man – he threatened your life; I wanted you safe for the duration. I was sure if you knew, you'd insist on helping."_ _

__Just as it turned out – Batman didn't add. Sometimes, his brain-to-mouth filter actually worked._ _

__Dick's body was still stiff, but at least he didn't make any movement to get out of the hug._ _

__"What about the other… Robin?"_ _

__Batman lowered his head and rested a cheek on the mop of black hair._ _

__"There never was one. I just hacked old footage of you and me into a few cameras, so The Thumb wouldn't start looking for you."_ _

__"Oh."_ _

__It felt as if Dick's body shrunk when he relaxed into the hug and cautiously lifted his arms to grip around Batman's body. Not until the sound of approaching police cars reached their ears did they let go and step apart._ _

__"Ready to go home, son?"_ _

__Dick surreptitiously dried a few tears away from his cheeks and nodded._ _

__"Sure", he said, in a scratchy voice that made Batman's heart sink with the realization of just how much the boy had been hurting._ _

__Batman kept a hand on Dick's shoulder and steered him in the right direction to reach the Batmobile._ _

__"You must have left your things somewhere. Why don't we pick it up on the way."_ _

__Dick's mouth twitched, ever so little._ _

__"Of course", he answered easily, "it saves me a trip tomorrow, and we wouldn't want anyone snooping. I was staying at a hotel in Upper East Side._ _

__"Well, then. Lead on Macduff!"_ _

__Dick groaned and threw his hands in the air._ _

__"Baaat-maaan! You know that's a misquote from Macbeth! Al… You-know-who would be disappointed!"_ _

__"I look forward to you telling him all about it…"_ _

__– – –_ _

__Much later that night, Dick crawled under the comforter and made himself comfortable in his old bed. After the last week's emotional roller-coaster, it felt both weird and fantastic to be back._ _

__It smelled like an enormous, almost empty house where not even Alfred could keep the dust at bay. Like old furniture and textile and antiseptic and leather and grass, soil and trees from the grounds._ _

__It smelled like home._ _

__Alfred had hugged him tightly and asked if he wanted something to eat or drink – Dick had accepted a cup of Earl Grey because he was far too tired to think about eating, but a cup of tea was always a good way to wind down._ _

__Bruce had hovered, promised they would do whatever he wanted the upcoming weekend, but the look in his eyes gave away that he was brooding over something. Probably how to do damage-control, get Dick back to school and explain why he had run away from Hillside Academy. Well, no doubt he could blame it all on Dick being such a drama queen – it wasn't even the first time he had run away, after all._ _

__He couldn't just turn off the feelings of abandonment, sorrow and anger that Bruce's action the last few weeks had ignited in him. But he knew without a doubt that Wayne Manor was where he wanted to be and that Bruce Wayne, for all that the man was emotionally inept, was his second father._ _

__Dick curled up in his bed. He was happy to be home. He knew that his feelings would settle; he would calm down and forgive Bruce._ _

__But that didn't mean he couldn't take the opportunity to play some pranks, while Bruce was suffering from his guilty conscience, and Alfred was clearly displeased with the master of the manor. Dick smiled into the soft pillow and started making plans…_ _

__THE END_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, you didn't think Batman would waltz into an obvious trap without hiding some stuff on his person, did you? He once hid a thermal flare in one of his bat-ears. (Batman vol 1 # 258)
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/633237086082891777/when-your-utility-belt-isnt-enough-put-the ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/633237086082891777/when-your-utility-belt-isnt-enough-put-the)
> 
> Earl Grey is the preferred tea in the Batcave. 
> 
> [https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/173196613535/a-nice-cup-of-tea-in-the-batcave ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/173196613535/a-nice-cup-of-tea-in-the-batcave%22)
> 
> This fic is based on Batman Plays a Lone Hand from Batman vol 1 # 13, from 1942. Writer Don Cameron, art Bob Kane, Jerry Robinson and George Roussos. 
> 
> For more canon facts about Batman in general and Dick Grayson in particular, check out my Tumblr (Northoftheroad)

**Author's Note:**

> There is this Golden age Batman and Robin story which is kind of cute, but at the same time utterly absurd and Bruce makes one more exasperated than usual. (A polite way to say he’s more of an asshole than usual, at least for Golden age Bruce. He still can’t hold a candle to modern-day Bruce, though.) 
> 
> I decided to try to transform that into a more modern setting – as in, Alfred and Wayne Manor exists – and make it a tad more realistic – as in, at least Bruce will not give his young foster child a wad of money and tell him to take care of himself. 
> 
> In case any of you have read and can identify the original story, please don’t spoil the ending for the rest of the audience. It would take all the fun out of the story if everyone knew how it is going to end, wouldn’t it? ;-)  
> It will be short-ish. Nothing like Careful what you wish for, I promise! 
> 
> Golden and Silver age Dick went to and from school on his own, and during the Bronze age, he was at college. I think it was Robin Year One that introduced the idea that Alfred, or Bruce, took him by car. Fond as I am of the older comics, in the modern world and with Bruce having enriched himself enough to be one of the richest men in the country (world?), I guess it makes sense that he should be taken to and from school. So that he won’t be kidnapped. Which never happened to Dick Grayson in the comics, by the way. See one of my earlier post on Tumblr.
> 
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/181952439965/dick-grayson-the-boy-hostage-not-so-much ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/181952439965/dick-grayson-the-boy-hostage-not-so-much)
> 
> And if I have a picture in my head of what a modern take on a Golden age Batman and Robin story should look like… I have a soft spot for Cliff Chiang’s Black and White story Clay. A very soft spot. Have a sneak peek at my tumblr.  
> [ https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/615671095258988544/clay-by-cliff-chiang-in-batman-black-and-white ](https://northoftheroad.tumblr.com/post/615671095258988544/clay-by-cliff-chiang-in-batman-black-and-white)


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